


4am

by writteninblood



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Absent Parents, Aftercare, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Canon Disabled Character, Childhood Memories, Chronic Pain, College, Complete, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, Family Fluff, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Goth Oswald, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, Intoxication, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain Kink, Pining, Repressed Memories, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Ed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension, mention of abortion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-12-08 11:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 71,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot works in the campus cafe of Gotham University where he meets Edward Nygma, a student looking for a quiet place to study.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Четыре утра (4am)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704167) by [Ahe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahe/pseuds/Ahe)



Oswald hates his job, but he hates the clientele even more. Serving coffee to a bunch of over privileged students who come in with their MacBooks, ask for the WiFi password then proceed to go on Facebook and not actually do any work is a personal hell for Oswald. For these people, it’s all about the appearance and absolutely nothing to do with studying. Oswald loathes all of them passionately. 

He works at the campus coffee shop because he has to. He has to support himself and his mother, and pay for his part time course in ornithology. Which pretty much means he has to work around the clock. Unfortunately for him at the moment that means literally. Because finals are coming up, his boss, Miss Mooney, saw a business opportunity in students panicking and cramming, and decided to open 24/7. Good for Oswald’s wages, bad for his health. When he works through the night, he’s sure he probably drinks more of the coffee than he sells to the students. One advantage for him though is that the look he normally goes for is dead goth. These days he has to put considerably less effort into his makeup before he goes out. He’ll take what victories he can get in his mundane existence.

It’s getting on for midnight on Sunday, which is always pretty quiet, even close to finals. The majority of the student body still goes home on weekends, probably disappears somewhere upstate to mommy and daddy’s mansion. This is why weekends are Oswald’s favourite. He brings his text books to work and on the off chance he’s awake enough to take in the information rather than stare at blurring words, he gets a fair amount of studying done. He’s poring over one such text book now. His elbow is on the counter, chin leaning on his hand, brow furrowed in concentration. He’s just had a thirty-minute break in which he slept and set an alarm. He’s feeling slightly less dead, so he’s reading while he can still process and retain information.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Oswald almost jumps out of his skin and his chin almost slips right off his hand. He didn’t hear the customer come in. This person has an unnatural level of stealth. Either that or Oswald was drifting off standing up again. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Oswald looks up and is momentarily flummoxed. The guy on the other side of the counter sure is a sight to behold. He’s got wild out-of-control hair that slips down in curls over his forehead, retro glasses, and is wearing crisp white shirt under a figure hugging sweater. Oswald can’t see below the counter, but he’d stake money on the rest of his attire being skinny jeans and Chucks. He is essentially every inch the hipster type that Oswald hates. But this guy doesn’t seem to be wearing it with any trace of pretension. There are no obnoxious vibes coming off him. Oswald opens and closes his mouth several times before finally forcing some words out that he hopes sound somewhat normal and don’t betray the belly flops he’s currently experiencing.

“Of course not. They’re not paying me to study.” 

The guy looks nervous, hugging some very large text books to his chest. He’s looking around at the array of yesterday's pastries and cakes like they might bite him. In short, he looks about ready to bolt. Oswald takes pity on him. He’s obviously not here by choice, and by the looks of it, probably only rarely comes out to social places.

“What can I get for you, friend?” 

“An Americano. With an extra shot. Please,” the guy says in a rush. 

“Coming right up!” Oswald says cheerily. He never usually bothers with these barista clichés, preferring to go about his work in silence, glaring and almost daring people to comment on his customer service. But he feels like the stranger before him needs this. And for some reason he wants to ease his nerves, maybe even get a smile out of him.

“So what brings you here at this unholy hour?” Oswald ventures as he fetches a lid while the machine fills the cup. 

The customer sighs. “My roommate and his girlfriend are copulating. Loudly. Again.”

Oswald almost drops the cup as he walks back over to the counter. A shocked snort escapes him.

“That bastard.” Oswald tries his best to commiserate. 

“Exactly! Sometimes I think about throttling him in his sleep. You know, if he actually ever slept.” He’s saying this angrily at the pile of brownies next to the cash register. He looks harmless enough, but Oswald can sense the frustration coming off him, and more than a little malice. Oswald stares, eyebrows raised, half-unsure, half-impressed. The guy looks up, suddenly nervous again. 

“Of course, I would never do that.”

“Of course,” When Oswald smiles, it’s a half-smirk.

There’s a long moment where hipster guy stares at Oswald as if he’s trying to figure him out. His gaze is scrutinising, invasive and a little bit intimidating. It’s a mystery to Oswald how this guy can go from being someone who seems to shrink in on themselves nervously to someone with enough power in their stare to completely unravel and strip bare. Even though his mouth is dry, he eventually manages to say how much the coffee is and to point out where the milk, sugar and sweeteners are.

As his customer searches in his wallet, Oswald grabs a sharpie and writes his phone number on the cup. He has put the pen under the counter and is back to innocently waiting for the money before the stranger looks up again.

“Oh I’ll also need to see your student ID for the discount.”

It’s pretty obvious that the guy is a student, and he’s probably the nerdiest-looking student Oswald has ever seen. And there is of course, no such discount. Miss Mooney would rather gouge out her own eyeballs than give students a discount. But it’s an excuse to find out his name. A five-dollar bill and the requested card are handed to him. Oswald looks at the card as he gets his change. Edward Nygma. E-Nygma. Quite.

“There you go… Ed.” It’s a bold move, it could go either way.

“Thank you,” Edward says, leaning slightly closer to read Oswald’s name tag. He doesn’t seem offended, or anything at all. Just anxious to reciprocate a social norm. ‘Oswald. Sorry to have disturbed you.’ He picks up his coffee and heads over to the sugars and sweeteners. How a person can be so simultaneously endearing and powerful is once again lost on Oswald. He watches Edward, waiting for him to notice the number on the cup. His heart drops when Edward puts a sleeve on the cup, covering the number entirely. He hopes that Edward just didn’t see it, rather than deliberately ignoring it.

Edward seats himself in the corner, away from the windows and opposite Oswald, placing his books and cup of coffee on the table. He then starts to retrieve items from his bag, as Oswald tries to watch discreetly. There’s a clear pencil case full of pens, another full of highlighters, another with pencils, a ruler, and an eraser. Then he pulls out an organiser, an A4 ruled notepad, and some small sticky notes. Wow, Oswald thinks, this guy is really serious about studying. He also notices Edward’s lower half. Yup, skinny jeans and immaculate Chucks. Though there’s no MacBook in sight. 

One of Oswald’s mix CDs is playing over the tinny speakers. He kind of wants to ask Edward if the music is okay, but he’s also afraid he’ll say no, or that he doesn’t like it. Music is one of the most important things in the world to Oswald. It gets him through the long shifts he works alone, when Miss Mooney doesn’t force them all to listen to the god awful Gotham University Radio Station. But Edward doesn’t comment or even seem to notice as he settles in. Unbearable Beauty by Ashbury heights plays happily. 

Edward stays for a full four hours. In that time, he doesn’t move from his seat. He’s entirely lost in his study bubble. Oswald tries to study his own text books, but his eyes are repeatedly drawn to Edward. He watches Edward worry at his bottom lip, lean his forehead on his hand, subconsciously run his fingers through his hair. Seeing Edward constantly lick and abuse his own lip, has him teasing at own his lip ring. It has him wondering what it would be like if Edward decided to bite at his lip ring, rather than at his own lip. Every little movement is interesting to Oswald. When Ed splays the fingertips of one hand on the table while he moves a capped pen over each of his bullet points, Oswald is captivated. Edward has such long fingers, beautiful artists’ hands. Oswald wonders if he plays an instrument. Those fingers would be perfect working a fretboard. Or running up and down piano keys. 

Oswald’s eyes are starting to sting. He’s reaching that stage of tiredness where he feels like he’s floating and everything seems a bit surreal. Sleep deprivation, as he’s discovered in this job, is a powerful narcotic. He turns the page of his book and glances down at it. Yup, the words are blurring. Edward is easier on his eyes, and more likely to keep him awake. That hair though – he bets there isn’t even any product in it. Most hipsters would kill for waves like that, but Edward’s looks soft, shiny and natural. Oswald would love to thread his fingers through it. Maybe give it a tug.

Oswald is shaken out of his thoughts when Edward abruptly gets up and his chair screeches as he does so. He stretches and straightens his clothes, brushing his hands over his sweater as though there are crumbs down it, despite the fact he hasn’t eaten anything. Oswald hurriedly looks down at his open text book lest Edward should look up and catch him staring. He listens as Edward packs up his things and throws the empty cup in the trashcan by the door. For a few moments Oswald thinks he will just leave without saying anything. He can almost feel the uncertainty coming off Edward as he pauses by the door. Nothing can be heard except HIM’s cover of Wicked Game playing over the speakers. Eventually Edward turns back to the counter and says, “what is it that no one ever did see, which never was, but is always to be?”

Oswald looks up at Edward across the cafe and blinks several times in confusion. “Is this – are you asking me a riddle?”

“Do you like riddles?”

“I—” Oswald starts.

“Tomorrow! Will you be here tomorrow?” Edward cuts him off. 

“Oh yes, unfortunately I will be here tomorrow.” Oswald yawns. He brushes his bangs out of his eyes. Just four more hours until Ivy will be here to relieve him.

Ed’s hopeful expression suddenly becomes neutral again and he looks down at the floor. He clears his throat. “Well coming here has been very conducive to my studying, and given the likelihood that my roommate and his girlfriend will be giving in to their baser instincts again tomorrow, I will see you then.”

It sort of hurts Oswald’s feelings that Edward was able to focus so hard that he probably forgot Oswald was even there. While Oswald himself couldn’t concentrate because he couldn’t stop staring at this beautiful nerd.

“Alright then, Mister Nygma. See you tomorrow. Hope your roommate and his girlfriend stop ‘copulating’ long enough for you to get some sleep.” He smiles tiredly. 

Instead of laughing at the term, like most people would have, Edward gives Oswald a blinding smile, as if he can’t believe someone would wish something so nice for him. His books start to slide out of his hands and he immediately sort of swoops to make sure nothing falls to the floor. His glasses slide down to the end of his nose as he does so. He quickly stands up and casts one more shy glance at Oswald, pushing his glasses back up with his index finger, before heading out the door. Oswald can see him still smiling as he heads past the café windows and down the street. Tomorrow’s another day; he’ll have to think on how to tell Edward he'd like to go home with him without scaring him off. 

He looks at the clock. Only four more hours to go.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ozzie! Thank God you’re here!”

Oswald has arrived for his night shift, relieving Ivy from her eleven hour day. She’s currently sitting on a stool around the corner from counter, next to where they hang their jackets and leave their bags. She’s very carefully applying eye makeup whilst holding up a compact.

“And how’s my favourite annoying little sister?’ Oswald asks, hanging up his pea coat.

“This is a disaster, I can’t get the sweep to go right. Can you _please_ do it for me?” She holds out the liquid eyeliner to him, accompanied by her most innocent butter-wouldn’t-melt look.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it. What’s the occasion anyway?” he asks, tilting her head up towards the light and inspecting what she’s already done.

“I have a date tonight.”

Oswald had been about to start applying the eyeliner but abruptly stops.

“Aren’t you a bit young to date?”

Ivy gives a long-suffering sigh. ‘I’m _nineteen_ Oswald.”

“If he does _anything_ that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to call me immediately, do you understand?”

Ivy rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Yes, Ozzie, I will call you. Now will you please fix my makeup?”

Oswald still isn’t happy with the idea of Ivy going out with some guy, but he knows he can’t protect her from everything. Oswald, of all people, he knows that getting hurt is inevitable.

He’s just about to start again with the eyeliner when Ivy suddenly moves.

“Oh, speaking of cute boys, I forgot! There was some guy in here a couple of hours ago looking for you. I don’t remember his name but he was really tall, way too skinny and quite nerdy looking? Ring any bells?”

Oswald is intrigued. “Yeah I chatted to that guy in here last night. Came in to study. What did he say? And can you please hold still while you tell me?” He peeks around the corner to check there are no customers.

“He seemed really nervous, he kept starting to say one thing, then like started to say something else…I think the gist was that he wanted to see you, and had something he wanted to give you.”

Oswald frowns contemplatively as he sweeps a very delicate green line across Ivy’s eyelid.

“He was really cute Ozzie. Seems like a nice guy, if, you know, a little on edge.”

Oswald can tell from her tone that she wants to say something else but won’t say it without his prompting. He gives it to her. “Okay, what aren’t you saying, Ivy?’

Ivy looks sheepish. “I know you don’t date, but maybe, if you gave this guy a chance?”

“No, Ivy. What I do works for me. No one gets upset from emotional entanglement, everybody wins,” he says, moving to the other eye.

“Well, if you’re not going to break your rule, then I think you should be careful with this one, Oswald.”

He frowns again. “Why?”

“Because he might just want to be your friend, but he might also be trying to set up something more. I mean, he wants to give you a gift, and you did only just meet…”

Ivy is annoyingly astute. But he’s pretty sure that someone who looks like Edward does has no interest in him like _that_.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being friends. If you’re right about him wanting more, which I think is highly unlikely, I’ll keep him at arm’s length. It’s as much for his sake as for mine.”

“Okay,” Ivy replies, though she doesn’t sound convinced.

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him what time you’d be back on shift. I hope that’s okay. I’m sorry, he seemed so nervous and harmless…”

“That’s fine Ivy, I promise. If there was anyone I definitely did not want to see, I would have told you.”

Ivy exhales in relief.

“All done. How’s that?” Oswald asks as Ivy examines his handiwork in her compact.

“Oh my gosh, it’s totally amazing! Thank you Ozzie!” She hugs him and kisses him on the cheek and goes to grab her emerald trench coat and handbag.

Oswald smiles; she really is beautiful. He hopes he won’t have to kill her date.

Maybe he should anyway for daring to think he’s good enough for her.

“Have fun tonight Ivy. And remember, call me.”

She gives another exasperated eye roll before leaving in a whoosh of green and red.

Oswald sighs. Back to the grind.

 

* * *

 

There’s been a steady trickle of students in the café all evening. It’s Monday and the last week before finals. At around one he finally gets some time to himself and makes himself a cup of tea. He doesn’t think coffee would help his state of mind right now. Looking around at the empty café, he supposes he could probably get away with reading his own books for a while. Grabbing a cloth and cleaning spray he goes to clean the last vacated table before heading out back to retrieve his books.

He’s managed to read a chapter on migration patterns and he’s finishing the last of his tea when he hears the door open and someone crash through it in what seems like a mini tornado. Oswald knows who it is despite the blur; the awkward limbs, the wild hair and glasses that seem determined to make their bid for freedom by dangling off the very end off his nose—these can only mean one person.

He’s struggling with the number of huge books he’s carrying, and belatedly Oswald realises he should offer to help.

“Do you want a hand with those?” Oswald asks, getting up and moving to walk round the counter.

“No! No, please, I’ll just put these down over here,” Edward says, all but staggering over to the same table he’d occupied the previous night. He puts the books down gently in an impressive effort not to let them drop noisily. Edward then takes a moment to get his breath back, then picks up the top book from the pile and turns around and approaches the counter.

His cheeks are still flushed from the exertion, and Oswald struggles to keep his thoughts PG.

“Hi Oswald.” Edward grins.

Seeing Edward smile at him like that is lifting his spirits from his usual droll work mood and making him want to smile back. He doesn’t try to stop himself.

“Mister Nygma,” Oswald replies. “I hear this isn’t your first visit to this fine establishment today.”

Edward purses his lips and looks down at the floor before meeting Oswald’s eyes again.

“Yes, I—er, wasn’t sure what shift you would be on. I should have figured that since you were on the night shift last night that you wouldn’t be here during the day. But I found this,” he holds up the book in his hands excitedly, “and I was just so—I wanted—I didn’t think—”

Edward is full on babbling and Oswald finds it incredibly endearing.

“Wow, okay, this I _have_ to see.”

Edward gives him another of his blinding grins and places the book the right way up in front of Oswald so he can read it. Oswald recognises it immediately; it’s his core text book, the one compulsory book for his course, the one that, naturally, costs an absolute fortune. His own copy is probably tenth-hand, about fifteen years out of date and so moth-eaten that he’s worried about the thing simply falling apart. What Edward has placed in front of him is the newest edition, published just the previous year, and in pristine condition. Oswald’s hand hovers over it, scared to touch it. He looks up at Edward, who has both his thumbs pressed to his mouth and appears to be nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for a reaction.

“What is this, Ed?” Oswald says at last, unsure what Edward is actually doing. Is he lending him the book?

“I saw you were reading an older version of this book yesterday,” Edward says, looking slightly deflated. “I recognised it because I had it in my collection. And it’s just sitting there, gathering dust, and I knew that it would be of real value to your studies, so I thought you might—I thought you might like to have it.”

Oswald’s mouth falls open. His heart is thumping far too loudly. “I can’t accept this.”

Edward frowns slightly, lowering his thumbs. “Please, take it Oswald. There’re few things out there worse than knowledge going to waste.” His voice lowers to a grittier tone. “There are already far too many _morons_ on this campus.” He shakes his head dismissively.

Oswald is sensing this is not a battle he’s going to win. Having the updated information _would_ help him a lot. Oswald would never admit it out loud but he does get tired of being that one guy in class whose page numbers aren’t quite right because he doesn’t have the same edition everyone else has.

“Okay, I’ll take it. Thank you, Ed. At least, let me get you a cup of coffee? On me?”

“Oh, um, okay,” Edward says, hands fluttering about nervously, now that they don’t have the book to hold onto. They finally land on the edge of the counter.

“You know, Ed,” Oswald says as he sets about making Edward’s coffee. “That was some pretty impressive detective work, reading the book upside-down like that. And so discreetly. I had no idea you even took notice of it.”

Edward preens slightly at the compliment, but then worries at his lip before saying, “I’m sorry if it was, um, intrusive? I’ve been told I have some problems when it comes to boundaries so...”

Oswald sighs as he places Edward’s coffee in front of him. “Just take the compliment, Ed.”

Some of the tension in Edward’s shoulders dissipates and he gives Oswald a small smile as he picks up the coffee.

“Thank you, Oswald.” He takes his coffee over to the sugar and sweeteners, and then gestures to his table by the window. “I should...”

“Right, of course.” Oswald says.

Edward goes through the same routine he’d gone through the previous evening, the only difference being the enormous pile of books taking up a large portion of the table. Oswald watches, unaware of the small smile quirking his lips, as Ed sets all of his stationary out in front of him. As if sensing he’s being watched, Edward looks up at him and smiles warmly. If Oswald lets his gaze linger much longer, things are going to stray into chick flick territory. So he looks down, feeling awe once again at the beautiful encyclopaedic tome in front of him. Holding the spine of the book, he flicks through the pages carefully until he gets to the foreword.

Oswald gets completely lost in the book. He marvels at how much better laid out everything is, how much clearer the diagrams are. He doesn’t touch the pages inside of the edges, worried some of the coffee grains that seem permanently stuck under his fingernails might mar its immaculate condition.

Linkin Park’s _Final Masquerade_ is playing over the speakers and it only serves to enhance the sleepy quality of the hour. Oswald looks at the clock and is shocked to realise it’s gone four. He looks over at Edward, expecting to see him highlighting away with a look of deep concentration on his face. What he sees is impossibly more endearing: Edward is fast asleep, his head resting on one of his arms on the table. His other arm is bent across his knee.

Oswald tries in vain to stifle the fond chuckle that wants to escape him. Edward is stirring something in his heart that he shut the door on years ago. And he only met the guy yesterday. He falls far too fast and hard and he knows it.

He debates leaving Edward for a while; but it’s late (or early, Oswald doesn’t know where that line is anymore) and surely Edward would be more comfortable in his dorm?

Oswald approaches Edward quietly, though the ridiculousness of it does occur to him, since he’s planning to wake him anyway.

As he gets close enough to see Edward’s face properly, he notices that it doesn’t look particularly peaceful; in fact his brows are furrowed and there’s a discontent in the line of his mouth. A bad dream?

Oswald places a hand on Edward’s shoulder and shakes him gently. Edward recoils, shaking his head slightly. Oswald shakes him more firmly and says his name. It comes out shockingly loud in the sleepy quiet.

“No!” Edward says suddenly. “We’re not doing this your way, we’re doing it _my_ way.” Edward sits bolt upright then, seemingly startled awake by his own voice.

Oswald is holding up his hands in an amused mock surrender. “Okay, okay, we’ll do it your way.”

“Huh?’ Edward looks adorably confused as he looks around himself.

“I think you were having a bad dream, Ed.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Edward says, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. It’s the most candid and off-guard Edward has been with Oswald. Everything else he’s said has seemed like it went through a careful selection process. He watches as Edward pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning before placing his glasses back on.

Oswald is seized by the impulse to run his fingers soothingly through Edward’s hair, which is in even more disarray after the impromptu nap. Every line of him is tense. Oswald wants to ask about his dream but doesn’t know whether he should. This is, after all, only the second time they’ve been in each other’s company.

“Ed, I think maybe you should go home and get some rest somewhere that isn’t going to give you a crick in the neck?”

“No doubt you’re right,” Edward says, staring blankly at the table.

“Are you okay? You seem a little—” Oswald hesitates, choosing his words carefully, “—run down. Is there someone I can call to pick you up?”

“No.” His tone doesn’t leave room for further discussion. “My dorm's not a long walk away.”

Oswald doesn’t know what to say or do with Edward so despondent. He decides the best course of action is backing away and retreating to behind the counter. He hears Edward start to pack away his things behind him. The sound is disconcerting to Oswald. He hates the idea of Edward leaving the cafe in this mood; he'd been so full of glee when he'd arrived. Perhaps if he'd just allowed him to wake up naturally, his temperament might have been better? Oswald starts inwardly kicking himself.

As he gets back to his place opposite Edward’s table, he sees the book. Perhaps getting back to a happy subject will perk Edward up a bit?

“I feel like I can’t thank you enough for the book,” Oswald says sincerely.

With all his books in his arms and his bag slung over his shoulder, Edward steps out from behind the table and pauses halfway between the counter and the door. He blushes slightly and looks down. “It’s just a book.”

“That just happens to be the main book on my course. It’s going to be a huge help. Thank you, Ed.”

Edward finally smiles. He takes a breath, seems like he’s about to say something, but then shuts his mouth. He looks down at the floor, clenches and unclenches his jaw, then looks more determinedly up at Oswald.

“Maybe you can let me know tomorrow if you see anything you would…you would like to discuss in it?” His expression is hopeful and more than a little vulnerable.

Oswald glances down at the book. Edward wants to discuss birds? Nobody ever wants to discuss birds with him. Except Ivy, and usually only in relation to plants. And okay, his mother too, but he’s fairly certain she just indulges him because she’s his mother. Maybe Edward does actually want to be friends? “Um, okay, sure. So, I’ll see you tomorrow night I guess?”

“Tomorrow night.” Edward echoes, a small smile gracing his lips. He’s not back to the sunny version of himself he was when he arrived at the café earlier, but at least he’s smiling. Oswald really hated that blank resigned look.

Oswald watches him go, feeling a strange sort of melancholy as the heavily weighted down figure starts to make his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to get an LP song in there as a little tribute. My heart is still breaking over it.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s some time between too tired and who even knows and Oswald has seated himself across from Edward at his favourite table. There’s just one other patron in the café, and they’ve been quietly reading on the sofa in the corner for a couple of hours now. Oswald doesn’t think they’ll mind if he chats to Edward for a while. 

“So what is it you study?” Oswald asks, keen to find out a little more about Edward, since it doesn’t look like he’s going to stop coming to the café any time soon. At least, that’s the reason Oswald keeps telling himself.

Edward holds up a book.

“Forensic science,” Oswald reads aloud.

“Yup!” Edward confirms brightly, putting the book down. “It just seemed like an easier way to get hold of bodies to poke around in, you know?”

Oswald tilts his head as he studies Edward, mouth agape. He’s waiting for Edward to laugh and say, ‘just kidding!’ But he doesn’t. Oswald flounders for a response, but Edward starts elaborating first. 

“I mean, you study birds, so…you must be interested in their anatomies, right? Don’t you just want to cut things up and see how they work, what makes them tick?”

Oswald takes a sip of his tea as he mulls over his reply.

“For me it’s more about the aesthetic; I can appreciate something free and beautiful—”

“Oh but it’s an aesthetic thing for me too—at least in part.” Ed cuts in. ‘It’s so beautiful to see and feel the organs that at one time kept a person walking, talking, breathing; all the droll things that humans do. To hold a human heart in your hands is incredibly exhilarating.”

Oswald’s mix CD chooses that moment to play _Psycho_ by Muse. Oswald hides his snort behind his cup. He hopes Edward doesn’t notice. 

Oswald’s face must betray some of the surprise he’s feeling at such gory inclinations though, because Edward adds, “I imagine,” and takes a sheepish sip of his coffee.

Edward continues to stump Oswald. Ever since he first appeared and said he’d thought about strangling his roommate, Oswald has been constantly taken aback by Edward’s apparent violent impulses. He has such a puppy-like appearance, yet Oswald gets the impression that underneath that unthreatening exterior lurks someone dangerous. The combination of warmth, anxiety and violence is a potent one. Oswald’s heart picks up at the realisation he likes the danger. Oswald was attracted to him immediately, yes, but knowing that he is also highly intelligent and somewhat bloodthirsty really ignites something within him.

“Are you all right, Oswald?” Edward asks, that vulnerable look once again gracing his features.

“Yeah, sorry,” Oswald says, jolted out of his rather alarming reverie. “I zone out sometimes. Never sleeping will do that to you.”

“I hear you. Between studying for finals and my roommate’s seemingly insatiable lust, I pretty much never sleep.”

Hearing Edward say ‘insatiable lust’ has Oswald wanting to reach across the table, grab the psycho puppy’s face and kiss him senseless. His fingers twitch. 

He looks up from his fingers, where they’re curled around his tea, to see Edward watching him, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing. 

“Did you…did you see anything you liked in the book?” Edward ventures quietly, his expression unchanging.

“All of it is wonderful, Ed. Thank you again.” 

Edward’s face falls slightly. 

“I’m glad I could help.” Edward says, shifting his body away from him slightly, avoiding Oswald’s eyes. 

Oswald senses he’s made a misstep somewhere but doesn’t yet feel comfortable enough with Edward to ask about it, especially since he doesn’t understand what the misstep is. Instead he scrambles to return to the amiable if somewhat terrifying conversation they were having before. 

“Speaking of the book, I was reading through it, and I decided that if you were a bird, you would be an Elf Owl.”

Edward looks from the window back to Oswald, eyebrows raised.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Well, they’re nocturnal for one.” Oswald smirks. “They also have very soft downy feathers.” He glances up at Edward’s hair to convey what he means. “And their eyes make them look very severe.” He realises as soon as he says it that the term isn’t exactly flattering. He means it as a compliment, because he really likes Edward’s sharp angles, and the fact the top rim of his glasses cover his eyebrows so it’s a constant challenge trying to read his expressions. 

Ed looks distraught - his eyebrows make an appearance above the rim of his glasses - but it’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it look. He covers it quickly by looking once more out the window. “You think I look severe?”

“No, I think you look beautiful.” Oswald says too quickly. Shit.

“You do?” Ed says, turning back to face him so abruptly that he knocks his cup of coffee over with a sudden swipe of his hand. He stares at Oswald a beat longer, disbelievingly, mouth open and eyes wide. Oswald knows he’s scared the poor guy - time for damage control. ‘Um, Ed?’ He says indicating the coffee that’s slowly inching towards all of Edward’s books and papers. Oswald gets up and hobbles over to the counter to retrieve a cloth. When he returns, Edward has his books and papers under one arm and is using napkins to absorb the liquid with the other. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m such a clutz.” Ed says, part of a torrent of stuttering apologies. 

Oswald, having cleaned the table, holds up a hand to stop him.

“It’s fine, Ed, really. Just an accident. I’ve done it myself on many occasions. Sleep deprivation makes one very clumsy.” He goes to throw the cloth into the sink behind the counter before hobbling back over to Edward. He sits down and it’s such a relief to do so that he can’t stop the sigh that escapes him. He opens his eyes to see Edward opening and closing his mouth. He knew this would come up at some point. Might as well get it out of the way. 

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly. “You can ask.”

“What happened to your leg?” Oswald can see him trying to mask his intense interest in the answer by putting his books one by one back on the table.

“I was pushed down the stairs in school when I was eight. Couldn’t afford surgery. Now it’s too late to really do anything about it.”

Edward worries at his bottom lip, turning over his empty cup in his hands. The guy can’t stop fidgeting.

“Does it hurt?”

Oswald considers lying like he usually does and saying no it doesn’t, but he’s too tired for bravado and despite the ever-present exhaustion, Edward doesn’t irritate him the way people normally do.

“Yes. All the time. Less so when I’m sitting. Walking is agony though.” This is the first time he’s ever told anyone other than his mother just how bad the pain is. Just confessing this to Edward seems to ease some of the pain in itself. 

“Don’t you take any medication for it?”

“Can’t afford it. Anyway it’s a chronic pain, which means I’d have to take meds around the clock. I don’t want to get addicted. Upside is that it keeps me sharp – just gotta put weight on my knee when I feel tired et voila, wide awake again!” He smiles and raises his eyebrows in an ‘it is what it is’ expression.

Edward doesn’t smile. If anything he looks angry. He’s silent for a few beats and then, “children can be malicious.”

Oswald is about to ask Edward if his childhood was as miserable as his when Edward’s demeanour suddenly brightens. Oswald knows a diversion tactic when he sees one. 

“So an owl huh? I always liked them. Their hunting methods are fascinating.”

And that’s how they get into a long discussion about birds; Oswald doesn’t even notice the one other person on the sofas when they leave. He is impressed by the amount Edward knows despite it not being his specialist subject. Oswald tells him so and Edward blushes but deflects the praise by saying he had a lot of time to read growing up. The conversation comes to a natural stop, and the quiet is neither awkward nor uncomfortable. They smile at each other across the table. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get much studying done.” Oswald says eventually.

“That’s okay,” Edward says. “I know all the books relevant to my finals backwards. Besides, I can’t remember the last time I conversed with someone on my intellectual level.”

Oswald feels himself glowing at the compliment. 

“My roommate is a good person, but he only really uses a very small portion of his brain. I think he’s capable of much more, but he chooses to be a moron like everyone else on campus. Though I don’t think most of them can help it.” 

“That’s too bad,” Oswald says, privately celebrating being unmatched.

“It’s a senseless waste. If he spent more time studying and less time engaging in animalistic behaviour I’m sure he would do very well.”

“Such a pity.” Oswald says, not at all meaning it.

Oswald is still basking in the glow of the praise when he hears a familiar voice drawl out his name; it makes him sit bolt upright. 

Miss Mooney is standing in front of the counter looking down at them. She's dressed in all of her usual brightly coloured splendour, her hair violent shades of pink and purple. She approaches the table and looks from Oswald to Edward. She traces a nail along his cheekbone and Edward swallows, his eyes looking worriedly at Oswald. 

“My, my, this one is rather lovely,” she says thoughtfully. “Better run along now. I need to speak to my star employee here.” 

Oswald, despite his fear of his boss, is incredibly endeared by the fact that Edward looks to him for confirmation that he should leave. He nods. 

“See you around, Ed.”

Edward immediately begins to pack up his things, slings his bag over his shoulder and stands up, defiantly crossing the small space to Oswald rather than leaving right away. He purses his lips nervously for a moment before he leans down and awkwardly hugs Oswald. Before he can react, Edward says ‘goodbye Oswald,’ right next to his ear and practically runs out of the café. 

Miss Mooney looks amused but then narrows her eyes as she stares after the departed Edward. “He’s going to be a terror that one, if he goes untamed.”

Before Oswald can think of a response, she turns back to him and says, “well Oswald, I have to say I am impressed.”

“I swear this is the first time I’ve sat down with anyone like this. There was only one person here and I’d done all the cleaning-”

“I _know_ , Oswald. I have eyes _everywhere_.” Her eyes twinkle with mirth. “I am genuinely impressed that you’ve survived as long as you have with the hours you’ve been given. You have certainly proven yourself.” She sits down in Edward’s seat, carefully, as if disgusted to be sitting in the same seats that students use.

“Thank you.” Oswald says uncertainly. He’s more than a little worried about where this is going. He knows there’s a lot more to Miss Mooney than meets the eye.

“Can you be trusted, Oswald?”

“Of course.” He answers immediately.

“Hmmm.” She looks at her nails, feigning a casual disinterest. “What do you say we get out of here?’

“But Ivy—”

“It’s been dealt with. I don’t think much business will be lost from the café being closed for a couple of hours.” Miss Mooney stands up and moves to lock the entrance. Oswald hobbles behind the counter and starts turning things off. When he’s done, she beckons him with a finger and leads him out the back to a limousine. She gets into the back seat and pats the space beside her. The moment he’s sat down the car peels out of the parking lot and makes its way off campus. They sit in silence for a while, and they’re in downtown before Miss Mooney speaks.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed that the café is not my only business interest,” Miss Mooney says. 

Oswald swallows and nods. He’s heard rumours. 

“That there,” she says, pointing out of the windows on Oswald’s side, “is my bar.”

Oswald can’t help but be dazzled by the vibrant city lights of Gotham, especially given his level of tiredness. He sees a woman in an elegant fur coat stumble out of the club and promptly throw up on the pavement. A little further down the same street he sees a couple having sex down an alley partly hidden by whirls from a steam grate. 

“And that,” she says, this time gesturing to her side of the car, “is my gallery.”

They pass by one of the oldest and most elegant buildings in Gotham, one of Oswald’s favourites. He loves how imposing it is. And Miss Mooney _owns_ it? His head is spinning.

“And that store over there is mine.” They’re passing through the Diamond District now, home of the best clubs, boutiques and eateries. There is serious money to be made there – and apparently Miss Mooney has a monopoly on it. 

“Why are you showing me this?”

“This is my empire Oswald. I’m asking you if you would like to be a part of it.”

‘But I already—”

‘As a barista yes. Such a small fry. I’m asking you, for now, if you would like to run the café. As you can see there is plenty career progression, should you wish to advance from…coffee.”

Oswald stares at her, mouth agape. The last thing he expected was a promotion.

“I will of course pay you a manager’s wage, and as a gesture of goodwill I am willing to finance the rest of your studies. Fish Mooney always looks after those who are _loyal_.”

Oswald looks down at his lap. He’s wary of becoming too tied to her, or owing her too much, despite how much pressure it would take off him to accept her offer. 

“I accept the new position, but I’m afraid I cannot accept the tuition. But thank you for the kind offer.”

When Miss Mooney smiles, it reminds him of a shark.

“Smart boy. You’ll see out the week on the hours you’ve been given, then you’ll be free to make your own rota. You may also hire one additional member of staff.” She winks at him. She knows that Oswald and Ivy have been working themselves into the ground to cover the new 24hr opening. “How you go about advertising, interviewing and selection I shall leave in your capable hands. Ah, looks like we’re here.”

Oswald hadn’t even noticed they were in his district, let alone outside his apartment building. The chauffeur opens his door. He turns to her before leaving. “Thank you, Miss Mooney.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Please give my warmest regards to your dear mother.”

Oswald smiles and nods, and steps out of the car.

His life is getting very strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've all enjoyed the fluff, as angst is coming *ominous music*


	4. Chapter 4

It’s early afternoon and Oswald is doing inventory when he hears the door open. It’s been a quiet day so far; it’s the last day before finals, and Oswald is glad, because now he’s manager he has _a lot_ to do.

He half expects the visitor to be Ed, as he hasn’t been by since Miss Mooney interrupted their conversation, and Oswald definitely hasn’t been looking up hopefully at the door every time he hears it open. He finishes counting the cola bottles and jots down the total before he looks up.

It’s Jim Gordon.

Jim fucking Gordon.

Despite the fact his heart is in his throat and he's fighting to control his emotions, Oswald can’t help give him a quick once over. He’s perfected that artful styled wave in his hair, and is wearing an entirely black ensemble that’s finished with a leather jacket. He looks incredible.

Jim looks as shocked to see Oswald as Oswald is to see him. Oswald’s seen him a few times around campus but he’s always managed to hide behind crowds or go unnoticed. He’s pretty sure Jim hasn’t seen him and doesn’t know he even takes classes at the university (or didn’t until now). He preferred it that way, but he should have known it couldn’t last the entire duration of their college careers.

Oswald puts his pen down as calmly as he can and assumes his best professional manner, despite the disquiet he's experiencing inside.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea you worked here—if I had I wouldn’t—” Jim’s eyes are wide and he looks really distressed – good. He’s already edging slowly towards the door.

“Is there something I can help you with, Jim?’ Oswald asks again, making his face an expressionless mask.

“I—a friend of mine wanted an application form, you know—the poster.” He gestures to the poster on the window next to the door. “I’m sorry, I know I promised. I just didn’t know. I’m sorry.” With that he turns around and leaves, walking as fast as he can down the street without running.

Oswald exhales and collapses across the counter, laying his head on his crossed arms for a few moments, the tension slowly draining out of him. Oswald hates how weak the human heart is. Years of building up walls around his heart to protect it from further damage, unravelled in mere moments. The pain makes his heart constrict as if everything happened yesterday, rather than in high school. 

 

* * *

 

_Senior Year, Gotham High School_

_The tension has been going on all year. Lingering stares, refusal to participate in his jock friends’ bullying of Oswald, often defending him by actively trying to keep them away. Oswald’s had a huge crush on Jim Gordon ever since he first laid eyes on him, when he transferred from another school at the beginning of the year. He’s the typical golden boy, despite only having been at Gotham High for a year, he is arguably the most popular guy in school. But Jim always looks back, when he catches Oswald staring. Sometimes he licks his lips. They only have a few weeks left, and Oswald can’t take it anymore. Which is why, this particular morning, Oswald grabs Jim on his usual route to the lockers and shoves him into the janitor’s closet, following him inside and locking the door behind him. The less questions asked about how he got the keys the better._

_He plans to just suck Jim off, figuring that Jim is having some sort of gay crisis and probably just wants a simple blow job that he can pretend a girl is giving him if he gets uncomfortable. Oswald advances on Jim, hobbling over and backing him into a corner. Jim, his lips parted and eyes hooded, says nothing. Oswald reaches out and starts unbuttoning the fly of Jim’s jeans, his own heart starting to pound; he can’t wait to have Jim Gordon’s cock in his mouth._

_However, Jim’s hands suddenly grab Oswald’s wrists and halt his movements._

_“Wait, _”_ Jim says._

_Uh oh, here it comes, the gay panic._

_Except, Jim does the last thing Oswald expects; he kisses him. Jim lets go of his wrists and they come up to frame Oswald’s face. For a moment he’s too stunned to react, but he soon recovers and kisses Jim back with everything he’s got. The first touch of their tongues makes Jim moan, which almost kills Oswald. His hands seem to be acting independently of him now; he’s back to unzipping Jim’s fly and tugging his jeans and his underwear down. This time Jim doesn’t stop him, reaching behind himself to grab the shelves for purchase, as Oswald kneels down. He holds Jim’s cock with one hand before slowly pressing his lips down along the shaft as far as his fingers._

_“Fuck, _”_ Jim says rather loudly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth. Oswald’s never heard the golden boy swear before. His cock throbs in his pants. He hollows out his cheeks and begins to suck in earnest, working his way up to taking his whole cock in his mouth. Jim’s moans gradually get louder, his hand isn’t doing much to conceal it. He can feel that Jim is very close already, so he moves back up to the tip of his cock. He laps at the head for a little while, gently teasing and enjoying the way Jim squirms and pants, before pulling away completely._

_Seeing how far he can push things, he tugs Jim’s pants and underwear all the way down so that there’s some room for Jim to move his legs. If this is the only time they do this, he wants to give Jim a really spectacular orgasm to remember him by._

_“Spread your legs for me, Jim. _”__

_Jim puts the hand covering his mouth back on the shelf to steady himself as he complies. Jim is leaning back, panting and utterly dishevelled and Oswald briefly tries to commit the sight to memory. Jim’s so on edge, this won’t take much. He sucks on his middle and index fingers before reaching around, his other hand still holding Jim’s cock, mouth poised to swallow him down again. He finds Jim’s hole and puts pressure on it as he takes Jim’s cock in his mouth again, removing the hand around it and going all the way down to the base._

_“Fuck! Oswald! _”_ Jim nearly shouts as he starts coming down Oswald’s throat. His hands flail about knocking bottles and brushes off the shelves as he scrabbles for purchase. Oswald presses his fingers _just_ inside Jim’s hole, and he bucks forward slightly, prevented from fully doing so by Oswald’s grip on his hip. _

_Eventually Oswald removes his fingers and releases Jim’s cock. He’s ridiculously hard now and really desperate to get off. He stands up and wonders whether Jim would mind if he just got himself off. He looks at Jim, who’s lying with his head back on one of the shelves, face flushed and shining with a sheen of sweat. Oswald watches Jim’s chest rise and fall in his tight-fitting t-shirt and takes a shaky breath. This won’t take long. He starts to undo his pants._

_The rustling draws Jim’s attention._

_“Here, let me… _”_ He makes to move towards Oswald but forgets his pants are around his ankles and he immediately loses his footing. Oswald moves quickly and catches Jim as he pitches forward. When Jim regains his balance and leans back, Oswald is expecting the guy to get embarrassed, pull up his trousers and storm out. But Jim keeps surprising him; he leans his forehead on Oswald’s and starts laughing breathlessly. Oswald can’t help chuckling too, and as he does so, a barrier falls down between them. Then Jim kisses him again and that fire burning low in his belly reignites. Oswald thinks there are few things hotter than laughter that dissolves into kisses. He’s utterly intoxicated by the adrenaline._

_The kisses quickly become more heated, and Jim bites Oswald’s lip at the same moment he shoves his hand into Oswald’s underwear and wraps his fingers around his cock. Oswald tears his lips away from Jim’s and moans loudly. _Jim Gordon_ is giving him a hand job. How is this happening? _

_Jim leans in and practically growls in Oswald’s ear, _“_ are you gonna come for me, Oswald?” Oswald can’t form words and so just bites his lip and nods. Hearing Jim say his name almost pushes Oswald over the edge. _

_“You’re so fucking hot Oswald, I can’t stop thinking about you.” Jim tightens his grip on his cock slightly and that’s it, his vision explodes, his legs threaten to give out and he grabs Jim desperately to hold himself up. Jim swallows his moan in another kiss and Oswald tries to kiss back despite gasping for air. His orgasm goes on for longer than it ever has before and he feels like it’s too much for his body; maybe he’s dying. If that’s the case, he thinks it’s a pretty good way to go._

_Eventually he lets go of Jim, when he’s sure he can remain standing on his own. Jim looks around and grabs a cloth from a packet (good thing they’re in a janitor’s closet) and cleans Oswald’s come off his hand. Oswald realises that Jim is still standing there with his jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles. The sight strikes him as comical and he starts to laugh again. Jim looks down and catches on and starts laughing too, utterly unashamed as he finally pulls his clothes back up. Oswald buttons himself up as well, unsure how to proceed as their laughter fades._

_They stare at each other for a long moment. Reality starts to set in. Oswald is waiting for Jim’s mood to turn, for him to say this can’t ever happen again and that Oswald needs to stay away from him and not_ ever tell anyone about this.

_Jim steps forward and Oswald flinches slightly, which makes Jim furrow his brows. But he needn’t have worried, because Jim pulls him into a hug and Oswald’s eyes widen at yet another unexpected turn of events. He hurriedly puts his hands on Jim’s back, running them up and down soothingly. Oswald doesn’t think he has ever been this happy._

_After a time, Jim steps back and looks Oswald in the eyes. He smiles sincerely and says, “thank you, Oswald.” And he leans in and places a brief but tender kiss on Oswald’s lips. Then he turns, unlocks the door and leaves._

_Oswald knows he doesn’t mean the sex. What he’s thanking him for is much bigger than that. Oswald showed him a part of himself he’d clearly been wrestling with. He helped him to fill in a missing part of his identity. Oswald knows it’s stupid, but he hopes that this was more for Jim than simply testing his sexuality. What was it Jim said? _I can’t stop thinking about you._ He feels the ghost of Jim’s kisses on his lips and he smiles._

 

* * *

 

After the longest time with his head in his hands, elbows on the counter, Oswald resolves that he needs to shore up his defences. It’s a good thing Edward isn’t interested in him romantically; that will make it easier for Oswald to rein his own feelings in. It’s just a crush, and crushes are easy to shut down. Maybe Edward won’t even come back, perhaps he was scared off by Miss Mooney and her ever inappropriate touching. As much as he respects the woman, he really wishes she wouldn’t do that.

He hears the door open once again, and as if summoned by thought, Edward hurries in, completely soaked through. Oswald hadn’t even noticed that it was raining.

“Hi Oswald! Sorry for dripping all over your floor, it wasn’t supposed to rain today—the weather in Gotham defies meteorological explanation.”

He doesn't have any belongings, indicating that Edward came by purely to see Oswald. He allows himself a small smile while Edward is distracted with the mess he's making of the floor. As he approaches the counter, Oswald notices that Edward’s teeth are chattering. It _is_ December and Edward never should have been outside without a coat anyway. Oswald inwardly chides him. Edward stops opposite him and just stands there smiling at Oswald like he’s not becoming hypothermic. Oswald watches a droplet fall from one of his curls and land to the side of his nose, eventually running down over his lips. Oswald clears his throat.

“There are dryers in the restrooms, you might be able to dry your clothes a bit in there. I have a change of clothes with me and you can borrow the shirt, but I’m pretty sure my pants will look ridiculous on you.”

It occurs to Oswald that it would probably be easier for Edward to run back across campus to his dorm and change there, and it’s probably occurred to Edward too. But he doesn’t say anything, and Oswald doesn’t suggest it. Instead he instructs Edward to wait while he fetches his t-shirt from out back. He returns and hands it to Edward who takes it and holds it very carefully as he heads over to the restrooms. Oswald hears the dryer turn on as he sets about making Edward a nice hot chocolate to warm him up. He figures that now he’s the boss he can give the odd freebie out here and there.

Eventually Edward returns, carrying his jumper in his hand. It still looks fairly sodden. His upper jeans seem dry though, and now he’s wearing Oswald’s purple shirt. He likes the way Edward looks in _his_ favourite colour. And God help him, Edward’s hair is still damp. He blinks hard.

“Here,” he says sliding the hot chocolate towards him.

“Ooh, yum,” Edward says adorably wrapping his hands around the cup and sighing happily. He takes a small sip and gets a little foam on his lip. He licks it clear and Oswald is definitely not tracking the movement or wishing he could have been the one to lick it away.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a few days.” Edward says, drawing Oswald’s gaze from his lips to his eyes. _Focus, Oswald._

“That’s okay. I’ve been very busy anyways. Miss Mooney made me manager of the café.” Oswald can’t help but preen a little. He worked fucking hard to earn it.

“Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations!” Edward grins. He raises his hot chocolate. “Here’s to you!”

Oswald grins and shakes his head at how incredibly dorky Edward is. As he takes another sip, Oswald sneaks an admiring glance at Edward’s hair, and then down to his eyelashes, which are still a bit wet and splayed across cheekbones that should be illegal. Oswald thought you had to go to European museums to see things this finely made.

He internally curses himself. He is not doing very well at shutting this down.

“Maybe,” Edward starts, then swallows and stops. He looks up at Oswald, then starts again.“Maybe after finals are finished, we could celebrate? Get off this campus and do something fun? We could celebrate finals being over and your promotion.”

This is dangerous ground. But maybe Oswald should stop being suspicious of everything and stop second-guessing, Edward most likely is just trying to forge a friendship. Oswald himself doesn’t exactly have many friends. None other than Ivy really, and he only knows her through work. From Edward’s behavior it could be the first time he’s reached out to someone. It’s brave and Oswald doesn’t want him to think it’s not worth it.

“I’ll have to see how this hiring thing goes and if I can give myself a day off. I haven’t had an entire day to myself in months. It’s long overdue.” Oswald feels tiredness wash over him even as he says it. He thinks he could probably happily hibernate through the rest of the winter.

The smile Edward gives him is so beautiful, so full of contentment and hope, Oswald has to force himself to look away.

“Well I’d love to stay but I really should go over my notes one last time,” Edward says after draining his cup.

“Well, good luck Ed. I’m sure you’ll ace everything. I’ve never seen anyone study as hard as you.”

Edward blushes. “Thank you. Good luck to you too. I have complete faith in you.”

It’s Oswald’s turn to blush.

“I guess I’ll come by some time next weekend?” Edward says. He looks down at the counter between them as if angry it’s blocking his way to Oswald. Oswald is glad there’s something stopping Edward from hugging him again. There’s no knowing what his own traitorous heart would have him do.

“See you then.” Oswald says, trying not to smile too brightly. Be casual. We’re going to be _friends_.

Edward turns to leave then, glancing out of the windows at the weather as he does so. It’s still pouring. Edward will be soaked again within seconds. Oswald suddenly has an idea and hobbles as fast as he can to the coat rack out back, next to which leans his umbrella. He hurries back out, in time to see Edward step through the door. He follows as fast as he can, using the umbrella as a cane to support his bad leg.

“Ed, wait!” Oswald shouts as he gets outside. He hurriedly puts up the umbrella as he himself starts to get a soaking. Edward is several long strides away and the rain is extremely loud, but he does turn around. As soon as he sees Oswald and the umbrella he runs back. Oswald holds it higher so Edward can fit under it, and Edward takes it from him and holds it above them.

“I thought this might help,” Oswald says, rather uselessly since the shirt he lent Edward is already sticking to his chest. He tries not to think about what he can see defined because of the cold, and tries not to watch his chest heave as he catches his breath. Oswald thinks he should have won an award for not attempting to jump Edward’s bones already.

“Okay well, see you in a week,” Oswald says, anxious to remove himself before he does something stupid. He can only take so much temptation in one day. “Oh and please be careful with this, it’s my mother’s umbrella.”

“Of course.” Edward says sincerely.

Oswald goes to turn around but Edward hooks his spare arm around Oswald’s back and stops him. Smiling, he pulls Oswald towards him. Oswald goes willingly. So help him, if Edward tries to kiss him for some unfathomable reason, Oswald is done resisting—

But Ed simply leans his head on Oswald’s shoulder and hugs him tightly. Oswald can feel very slight stubble on his neck from where Edward has nestled himself. It’s not like the first hug. This is a full body hug and Oswald can feel Edward smiling into his neck. He gingerly puts his hands on Edward’s wet back, trying not to think about the lean muscle underneath them.

But then Oswald feels Edward’s hand move slowly up his spine before settling between his shoulder blades. His touch leaves a trail of fire and his heart goes into overdrive; he’s sure his eyes must be as wide as saucers. He draws in a shaky breath that he’s glad the rain drowns out as he suddenly realises he was right to second-guess. This isn’t _friendly_ behaviour. Even without Edward stroking his back, the hug has gone on for too long to be platonic. _Edward has a crush on him too._ He starts to pull back, and the movement brings their faces close together, their breaths little swirling clouds in the cold. Edward’s glasses are slightly fogged from proximity to Oswald’s warm neck, but it doesn’t disguise the desire in his eyes. Neither of them moves. Nothing can be heard except the relentless roar of the rain.

Oswald wants to close the distance and kiss him, which is probably what Edward’s waiting for if Oswald is reading him right—he wants to be sure, so he wants Oswald to make the move. Oswald really would like nothing more. He wants to devour Edward’s mouth until he can hardly breathe. The urge is burning in his chest. But he _can’t_. He remembers Jim’s visit that morning, and all the memories that came back with it. He promised himself he would _never make that mistake again._ Feeling emboldened by the memory of the pain, he makes himself take a step back.“I can’t.” Oswald says. Edward’s face falls, and he hurries to elaborate, even though not doing so would have sent a clearer message. He just can’t bear to see Edward’s face like that.“I can’t leave the café unattended.”

Edward’s expression transforms into one of understanding. He swallows and nods.

“Take care, Ed.” Oswald says, and he knows his smile is a sad one, despite efforts to make it otherwise. He turns and hurries out from under the umbrella and into the café without waiting for a reply.


	5. Chapter 5

Oswald only had to endure one exam during finals week – perks of a part time course. It is however still a relief to get it over with and concentrate on his new managerial position at the café. The weekend following finals is when he starts interviewing for the extra barista position that Miss Mooney granted him. He didn’t get a huge number of applications but this doesn’t come as a surprise to him given how much of the student body comes from an affluent background. His application form was quite simple: basic information and a single question at the end, ‘why do you want this job?’ Oswald likes to think he’s good at reading people and he’d thought he could tell a lot about the applicant from their answers to this question. He’s narrowed the forty applicants down to five.

The first interviewee on Saturday is named Harvey and Oswald selected him purely because his answer almost made him laugh, ‘I have an addiction to donuts.’ Harvey, as it turns out, is something of a jerk. He asks Oswald if he’s a member of some sort of cult before going on to eye his small black ear stretchers with distaste. Oswald simply drops the application on the desk and thanks Harvey for coming in, his face a stoic mask.

The next three of his finalists are each an odd experience in their own way. There’s a girl named Millie who’s small, pale and timid and she can barely speak. Her cheeks go pink and she fidgets nervously every time he asks her a question. Either she has some social anxiety problems or she has a crush on him; Oswald’s not sure who felt more awkward in that interview. The next one is a nerdy looking guy called Winn who Oswald writes off the moment he puts a MacBook down on the desk. After him, Oswald begins to lose hope; the girl following Winn is more unsmiling and perfunctory than Oswald himself. As she leaves, Oswald sighs and goes to make a cup of tea before the last candidate arrives. He has just sat down and is reaching for the last application form to refresh his memory when a deep velvety voice says, “Mr Cobblepot?”

Being called that is extremely odd. Oswald looks up to find a tall, dark haired guy approaching the corner table that he’s set up as an interview desk. He has a strong jaw and magnificent cheekbones, which make him think of... no. He’s smiling a half smile at Oswald as he takes off his thick winter coat.

“Victor is it?” Oswald says, glancing at the application form. “Please have a seat.”

Victor nods and sits down. Oswald has already decided he likes him, and based on his other lacklustre selections, is probably going to give Victor the job.

“So, would you like to start by elaborating on your reason for wanting this position?”

Victor purses his lips and Oswald knows immediately that he wasn’t lying on the form and that it wasn’t a sob story. He knows pain caused by love when he sees it.

“My girlfriend Nora, she’s sick. She needs several medications and her family are struggling to cover the costs. I have to help.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Oswald says, and he is. He understands. He would do anything for his mother. He already is in a way, he works very long weeks just to ensure they don’t get evicted. They’ve come close more than a few times.

“Thank you.” Victor manages a small smile.

Oswald is about to ask Victor another question when he sees movement outside in the corner of his vision. He glances quickly at it and realises it’s Edward dithering across the street. His heart starts to beat faster and he has to take a deep breath to stay outwardly composed. He turns his attention back to Victor.

“Well, I think I’ve got everything I need,” Oswald says, his lips curling upward in a smirk.“Just one last question. How do you feel about rock music?”

Victor grins. “Big fan. My favourite band is The Cure.”

Oswald’s mouth falls open. “You’re hired.”

Victor’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

 _“Friday I’m In Love_ is one of the most beautiful songs ever written.” The song is associated with very specific memories for Oswald, memories he’s only just starting to be able to think of without feeling any pain in his heart. And this is the first time he’s come close to referencing these memories to anyone. _“_ When can you start?”

They agree that Victor should come in on Monday to meet Ivy and have a training day. They shake hands, smiling, and Victor puts his coat on and leaves, with something of a spring in his step. Oswald feels weirdly good about himself. Knowing he’s done the right thing, that’s a rare feeling for him.

The moment Victor is out of sight, Edward stops lurking and enters the café.

Oswald is once again struck by handsome he is, especially in the black coat with red lines criss-crossing it that he’s showcasing right now. The guy could be a fashion model if he had a bit more confidence.

“Hi,” Edward smiles nervously. Oswald remembers their last encounter, hasn’t really _stopped_ thinking about it. Gone is Edward’s unbounded enthusiasm. In its place is something like the demeanour he displayed when they first met, except more tense. Oswald hates himself more than a little bit for the regression he’s caused in Edward. And he had been feeling so good a few moments before.

Edward sits opposite Oswald at his interview table. It’s odd seeing him in the bleak early morning light instead of the brutal fluorescents of the evening and night.

Edward opens his coat and pulls out Oswald’s shirt, clean and neatly folded. He also places the umbrella that he’d had hooked over his forearm carefully on the table.

“Thank you,” Oswald utters quietly, unsure what else to say.

Edward smiles tentatively. Oswald can read immense vulnerability in his eyes. The coat seems to almost be acting like a shield to the outside world. Where Victor had taken his coat off, Edward wraps his tightly back around himself once he’s dislodged Oswald’s items.

“I had a thought of how we could celebrate,” Edward says, and Oswald notes that his voice is more hoarse than usual.

“Oh, what is it?”

“I thought we could go to the theme park! They also have bird displays, sometimes they let you have various birds of prey on your arm…” he continues to babble about the features of the place as Oswald starts panicking internally.

Edward is smiling broadly as he talks, clearly proud of his idea. And it is a nice idea, Oswald thinks. But it is a very couply activity. Maybe Edward still has a crush on him. He needs to step up and make sure Edward understands it’s never going to happen. But he looks so hopeful, and Oswald doesn’t want to undo the confidence Edward had previously gained by coming to the café and becoming friends with him. But he has to _try_ to be honest. He owes Edward that, after all the kindness he’s shown him.

“Ed—” Oswald falters. Those fucking puppy eyes – how could you say anything that would cause hurt in them?

“Yes, Oswald?”

“We’re _friends_ right?”

Edward looks heartbreakingly confused and Oswald has never loathed himself more.

“Of _course_ we are. Have I done something?”

“No of course not. I just wanted to be clear.”

“Okay,” Edward says, letting out a long exhale, a smile slowly returning.“So, did you manage to get that day off?”

“I’m free tomorrow, Ivy’s going to cover. Sunday hours are back to normal so it’s a shorter day. Easy enough for one person to manage.” He does feel a bit bad; he’s never left Ivy to close on her own before. But when he told her he’d sort of made a promise to Ed, she became very insistent that he go.

“That’s settled then. Want to meet here tomorrow afternoon, say around one? I can drive us.”

Oswald is sure with every fibre of his being that this is a bad idea. He thinks that Edward probably still isn’t getting the message, but he doesn’t have the courage to spell it out. He should tell the truth, but recounting the story would be too painful, and he vowed he would never speak of it again. He wants it to stay buried. Oswald is a coward, trapped by his own feelings. With Victor it was bearable to refer to it, but the difference with Edward is that the things he makes Oswald feel are too close to what he felt before. He closes his eyes for a moment to dismiss his thoughts.

“We could just take the subway.” Oswald says, not entirely comfortable with the idea of being in an enclosed space with only Edward. He doesn’t trust himself.

“I can’t. I mean, I can, but my parents—it’s not safe.” Edward is fidgeting uncomfortably. Oswald has no idea what to make of that non-sensical reply.

“Um, okay.” Oswald suddenly feels old beyond his years. He wishes it was just as simple as going out with a boy he likes. Things _had_ been relatively simple until Edward found his way into the café.

“Well, thank you for bringing these back,” Oswald says, wanting nothing more than to be alone. Always holding back, always shutting people out – it’s exhausting. “I need to call my boss about my new employee and order him a shirt among other things. Always something to do when you’re the manager!” Oswald stands up and slaps a smile on which he’s sure Edward must be able to tell is fake.

“Okie dokie, well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Edward stands up too, moves around the table and takes a step towards Oswald, observing him carefully. He must deduce that his proximity is not unwelcome because he steps completely into Oswald’s space and wraps his arms around his shoulders. All Oswald can think as his heart rate soars once again is how _good_ Edward smells. He looks _and_ smells like a model. Why on earth is he interested in Oswald? And _God_ , he just wants to slide Edward’s scarf off from around his neck and inhale deeply as he slowly kisses his way up Edward’s neck to his earlobe, licking and biting until Edward shivers, putty in his hands–

Edward steps back and smiles that beautiful, warm, disarming smile of his. “I can’t wait,” he says, and in a few long strides he’s gone.

Oswald collapses back into his seat, all the wind gone out of his sails. He’s never been so conflicted in his life. He wants nothing more than to give in to the temptation, but every time he comes close, he remembers. And for the first time in a very long time, Oswald lets himself remember. It’s like an open hole in his chest that never fully healed, no matter how much he tries to stifle it. He thinks back to how excruciating the pain and humiliation was and feels the tell-tale sting of tears in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he grabs the papers from the table and heads out back and sits down on the stool by the coat rack before he fully gives in and sobs. He sobs for his exhaustion, for the memories that will never truly go away, for his confusing feelings towards Edward. He sobs for his cowardice, for his inability to do the right thing, for the inevitability of his hurting Edward. It would, however, be better to hurt him now, rather than later. The longer he lets this go on, the worse it’s going to be.

  
Eventually the sobs subside, and he goes to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. For the moment he feels strangely better, and it’ll be enough to carry him through the rest of the day until he can finally go home.

 

* * *

 

Oswald wearily shuts the door behind him and locks it, sliding all six of the bolts his mother left open for him back across (this _is_ Gotham). While his private emotional outburst did help somewhat, he never really shook the melancholy that’s been following him around since the end of high school. He shuffles slowly to his room; here at home he doesn’t have to pretend he’s not in pain with every step. It’s always an immense relief to not have to hide his grimaces and to be able to lean on the walls and furniture to take the weight off his leg.

He sits on his bed and takes off his shoes before changing into his pyjamas. He’s just pulling back the covers to get into bed when he hears a soft knock on his door. His mother pokes her head around it and he smiles at the familiar sight.

“Is everything all right, my darling?”

“Yeah, I’m just really tired.” He gets into his bed and she perches on the side of it. She smells of candles and incense, things she’s addicted to and likes to light around the shared areas of their tiny apartment. He’s convinced one day she’ll probably burn it down, but he doesn’t have the heart to deny her these small pleasures. And Oswald himself loves the smells. They mean warmth, safety and home to him.

He fluffs up the pillows behind himself and leans back against them, sighing at how good they feel against his aching muscles. His mother sits there quietly, simply observing him in a motherly, concerned fashion. She takes the hand nearest to her and strokes her thumb lovingly over the knuckles. Oswald allows his eyelids to droop.

After a period of comfortable silence, she says, “so what’s his name?”

Oswald’s eyes snap open. “Whose?”

“The boy you’re sad about.”

Oswald knows denying it is probably pointless, but he does anyway. His mother’s powers of perception when it comes to him are freaky. “I’m not sad over a boy.”

“I am not blind, Oswald. I know what happened with James...”

Oswald withdraws his hand from underneath his mother’s and automatically starts to curl in on himself.

 _“Oswald_. You have to _let go_. You won’t be able to let anyone else in until you do.”

She’s right, he knows she is. But it’s so much easier said than done. He never really dealt with the fall-out from what happened properly at the time, and if he starts now, he knows it will take some time… probably a lot of time. He feels a tear slip down his cheek and his mother wipes it away with her thumb, smiling sympathetically at him.

“He’s really beautiful,” he says, the dam breaking, everything coming out in a jumbled torrent. “His name is Edward and he’s really tall and looks like a model. He’s really shy and awkward but also really smart; I feel like I could talk to him for hours about absolutely anything, and I would learn so much from him. I know there are things going on with him that I don’t know anything about, but they wouldn’t make me want to know him any less, I know that. I know he has a crush on me – he’s hugged me twice now and I think he wanted to kiss me last week. And I obviously find him attractive, but I just _can’t_. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I will ever be ready.” The tears are openly falling from his eyes now, and his mother hands him her handkerchief.

“Oh, my boy,” she says, taking his hand again. Oswald doesn’t resist. “You need to tell him. It will take courage, but if he loves you, he will wait for as long as it takes.”

“He doesn’t _love_ me. It’s just a crush.” There’s no way Edward loves him. That’s _ridiculous_.

Gertrud smiles, it’s one of those irritating knowing smiles that parents do when they’re privy to knowledge that you aren’t. “Courage, my Oswald. Be honest with him. At least then you will know your conscience is clear.”

Yes, telling someone who’s socially awkward, who reached out probably despite their better judgement, made themselves completely vulnerable…telling them you’re not ready to date, and may never be, should be a doddle. Oswald has let it get too far already. However he does it, he knows he’s going to hurt Edward.

“You’re exhausted,” Getrud murmurs gently, brushing Oswald’s hair out of his eyes. “Get some sleep. Goodnight, my love.”

He gives in to her soothing touches and shuffles so he’s laying flat on his back.

He’s asleep almost from the moment he closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't returned with a more juicy chapter, but this one is a sort of bridge to all the drama that will go down in chapter 6. I'm excited to write it as I'm a sucker for angst and the scene this whole fic is built around will be in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with a trigger warning for homophobic comments and general homophobia.

“Are you almost done in there? I have to leave soon and I need your help!” Ed shouts desperately at the bathroom door in his dorm room. His anxiety is going through the roof and he feels so sick with nerves that he hasn’t been able to eat breakfast. He risks another glance in the mirror at his ensemble.

“You still look like a frigid librarian,” mirror-him says dryly. Ed hurriedly looks away.

He’s thinking black and white, because it’s classic, and always smart. But he’s itching to wear _something_ green. He doesn’t feel like himself if he foregoes it. But at the same time, three colours is an odd number, and it ruins the symmetry. Black and white will have to do.

The bathroom door finally opens and Jim steps out in a cloud of steam, towel wrapped around his lower half, his Adonis body glistening with moisture.

“Well, what do you think?” Ed asks, doing a small twirl.

Jim looks him up and down, black skinny jeans, crisp white shirt, black tie and fitted black jumper, as he sits down on his bed. “You look like a member of a 2005 indie band, but somehow you pull it off.”

Ed scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion. “I told you I don’t understand your pop culture references. I need something green though,” he says, frustrated.

Jim starts rooting through his drawers for clothes as he answers. “What about socks? That won’t ruin your whole black and white vibe.”

After rooming with Ed for a couple of years, Jim knows him and his quirks pretty well; isn’t stupid enough to suggest a really bold splash of colour that adds a third element. It seems almost second nature to him now, to accommodate Ed’s idiosyncrasies. Ed rarely has to explain himself anymore. Green socks work, he knows they’re there, but nobody else can see the third colour.“Thanks Jim,” Ed says gratefully, pulling on some dark green socks and making a grab for his Chucks.

“So what’s his name?”

“Nice try,” Ed says, now inside the wardrobe, going through his coats.

“It would be much easier for me to advise you if I knew something about the guy,” Jim says.

Ed finally finds the coat he wants. It’s black with military style clasps. Luckily Jim is dressed by the time Ed turns around and is towelling his hair.

Ed puts his hands flat against each other and points them towards Jim, trying to portray his honesty when he says, “If today goes well, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

Jim smiles sadly and Ed doesn’t understand why. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. I hope everything goes okay. Just try not to get your hopes up too much okay?”

“You should be a motivational speaker, Jim.”

Jim snorts and Ed’s lips can’t help but quirk up slightly; he enjoys making Jim laugh. Ed finishes buttoning his coat and he’s ready to go. “I think I might be sick.”

“You haven’t eaten anything to throw up,” Jim says helpfully, walking over to him and pulling him into a hug. Over time, Ed has gotten more comfortable with Jim touching him, even enjoys the affection now. Some of the tension drains out of him as he hugs Jim back.

“I’m here for you, whatever happens, okay?” Jim says seriously in his ear.

Ed’s nerves return again; now he’s sure Jim knows something Ed doesn’t. But he doesn’t have time to ask – he catches a glimpse of the alarm clock on the bedside table and realises he should have left about ten minutes ago.

“Will you be here when I get back or will you be at Barbara’s?”

“I’ll be here. Barbara’s at her parents for the weekend. Harv might be here too though. Said we might have a few beers and watch the game.”

Ed’s nose wrinkles automatically in distaste at the mention of Jim’s best friend. He snaps himself out of it however, he really does have to go. He grabs his car keys and his wallet and shoves them into his pocket.

“Wish me luck!” Ed says, turning and leaving without waiting for the reply.

 

* * *

 

Ed is extremely smart, Jim knows that. Which is why he can’t be blamed for missing the glaringly obvious on occasion, like that time he came back to their room wearing one of Oswald Cobblepot’s shirts and carrying his umbrella.

 

* * *

 

Ed pauses outside the café, his nerves overwhelming him again. He can see Oswald’s back as he chats animatedly to the redhead behind the counter. He likes her, she was friendly towards him that one time when he was looking for Oswald. But he can’t shake the black feeling of foreboding he got from the last things Jim said before he left. He briefly considers leaving and never showing up at the café again. The flight instinct is something he always has to fight every time he goes to see Oswald, but every time they make eye contact, it’s not even a question that he’ll stay. After all, Oswald is the only one that silences the _other him_. With Oswald, there is peace, the first time he’s experienced such a thing in his entire adult life. Oswald is _special_ and he knew that before he realised that he seemed to keep other him away. Best of all, Oswald had called him _beautiful_. He asked Jim about it and he advised him that friends don’t generally call each other beautiful. It’s the one thing he’s holding onto.

The way Oswald makes him feel is terrifying, but he wants more than anything for Oswald to feel the same way about him, and for them to become _closer_. Ed is usually extremely uncomfortable with touch, but he can’t seem to stop with Oswald. He wants _more_. He wants to peel back the layers and feel what it’s like to have someone else’s, specifically Oswald’s, skin against his own. He wants to experience his first kiss, touch Oswald’s soft raven black hair, maybe even reveal his darker desires to him. He wants so much, and he believed he might be able to have it, until Jim started acting strangely over the past week, casting doubts over all of his hopes. Jim had been so encouraging before, saying all the signs pointed to mutual attraction. But then he just stopped. Maybe it was just the stress of finals week, maybe Ed is reading too much into it. But he _knows_ Jim, and he senses that something isn’t right. It’s an irksome thing at the back of his mind, an unsolved puzzle. He feels like he’s on his own now, and that’s the most terrifying thing of all. He has to decide whether he goes forward and takes this chance with Oswald. Today is the day, they’ll be away from the café, away from work or studying, and time will be their own.

At that moment the redhead notices him, and Oswald follows her gaze and turns around; their eyes meet. The decision is made. Ed finds himself smiling as he pushes open the door, drawn towards Oswald like a magnet.

 

* * *

 

“Looking like I’ve made an effort is definitely going to give the wrong impression. This is supposed to be a _friends_ outing, nothing more.” Oswald says grumpily as Ivy finishes smudging black eyeliner around his eyes. Oswald is realistic about his appearance, the one feature he does like is his eyes. He knows dark eye makeup really makes them pop. Today he’s supposed to be letting Edward down gently, not looking like he’s trying to impress.

“There’s nothing wrong with looking nice, Ozzie,” Ivy chides.

“I don’t know why I’m letting you do this to me,” he says, mock-scowling. “I’m your boss now, _you_ should be doing what _I_ say.”

She steps back from the stool that seems to have become their makeup spot, smirking at his grumpiness before sighing and adopting a more serious expression.

“I know you have this whole past trauma thing going on, and that it’s the reason you won’t date. But I really think—”

“I _know_ , Ivy.” Even though he feels physically very awake after sleeping for approximately twelve hours, the mental exhaustion is still very much present. “And I want to. Believe me, I _really_ want to. But not now. I have some stuff…some stuff I have to work through first.” It’s the most honest he’s ever been with Ivy. He feels that she deserves to be let in a little after taking so much of his moodiness.

Ivy eyes him sympathetically, seeming somewhat taken aback by his candidness. “Thank you for telling me.” She walks back out into the serving area and he follows her, walking round to the other side of it, since he’s not in his uniform. There’s a group sitting in the corner on the sofas but aside from that it’s quiet.

“I don’t suppose you have any ideas or advice on how to handle this?”

“I don’t think there’s anything to handle Oswald,” she says, restocking the coffee beans. “There’s no good time to say you don’t want to date someone who obviously wants to date you.”

Oswald closes his eyes, as if he could somehow shut out the truth of her words that way.

“But,’ she says, turning to face him directly across the counter, “there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that he will wait for you. ****”

Oswald opens his eyes, unable to stop the seed of hope that wants to bloom in his heart. “You really think so?”

She hooks her index finger under his chin and tilts his head upward. “I have a good feeling.”

Oswald snorts. “Well, as long as you have a good _feeling_.”

Ivy winks at him. “So what’s the new guy like? Is he cute?”

“He’s pretty mellow. That’s one of the reasons I liked him straight away, he’s not a hyperactive ball of energy like my other employee.”

“But is he _cute_?”

Oswald is about to fumble his way through an answer that neither confirms or denies whether he thinks Victor is attractive when he notices Ivy’s gaze suddenly look towards the door. He knows without turning around that Edward is going to be there.

“Speaking of cute….” Ivy says, beckoning Edward inside as Oswald turns around.

Edward seems to be dithering outside again, but the moment their eyes meet he spurs into motion.

He looks devastatingly handsome, which, Oswald thinks sarcastically, should make this easier. He notes Edward’s coat. He doesn’t know anything about fashion or designer labels, but he would bet his CD collection that his coat is worth more than everything both he and his mother own.

“Wow, that eye makeup really brings out your eyes,” Edward blurts out when he comes to a stop in front of Oswald.

Oswald immediately flushes. He can see Ivy looking between them in the corner of his eye.

“Hi, I’ve never introduced myself properly, I’m Ivy.” She extends a hand towards him.

Edward looks at it uncomfortably; for the amount he touches Oswald, he sure seems perturbed by the prospect of contact with anyone else. It occurs to Oswald then that Edward is probably only like that with him. The thought makes him feel warm for all of a few seconds before he remembers what he has to say to him. Ivy’s hand is starting to falter; her smile starting to waver. Edward glances nervously at Oswald then raises his own hand to accept the handshake before quickly retreating and putting the hand back in his coat pocket. Ivy smiles brightly. Edward smiles back at her before returning his gaze to Oswald. Oswald smiles and gives a very small nod of approval. Edward’s smile widens. Oh god, they already have silent communication.

Ivy clears her throat. “And you are?”

“Oh!” Edward says. “Ed. Ed Nygma.”

Ivy looks like she wants to ask more questions but Oswald thinks the poor guy has maxed out his social interaction quota for the day.

“We should be going,” he says, giving her a significant look.

“Right! Okay, well, have fun you two.”

Oswald starts making his way towards the exit and as he does so he hears Edward say “bye Ivy” followed by the scrape of a chair against the floor and Edward saying “oops” shortly after. Oswald lets himself smile since Edward can’t see him. The guy is an adorable clutz and no amount of designer clothing will make him suave.

They walk in silence to the student parking lot. Oswald was expecting an Aston Martin or some sort of James Bond type car, so he’s surprised when Edward stops beside an old beat up 1960s black Ford Mustang. It’s still a beautiful machine despite its years and its retro feel seems to complement Edward. Ed leans across from the driver’s seat to unlock Oswald’s door. Oswald cautiously steps inside, trying not to cringe as he manoeuvres his bad leg at an awkward angle. Once seated and comfortable against the leather, Oswald takes a moment to admire the interior. He doesn’t know much about cars but he approves much more of the instruments of this car than the soulless modern atrocities.

As Edward starts the ignition, the tape deck (the _tape deck!_ Oswald’s mind gleefully repeats) starts playing. It’s classical opera and this time Oswald doesn’t bother to hide his urge to cringe. He stares at Edward. Edward is leaning his arm on the back of his seat as he prepares to reverse out of the spot but notices Oswald’s disapproving glare before he starts.

“What?”

Oswald nods towards the tape deck.

“It soothes me.” Edward says, a little defensively. The opera singer hits a particularly shrill note and Oswald closes his eyes instinctively. He opens them again to see Edward looking at him, bemused.

“Okay, okay. I think I have something more to your taste in here somewhere.” He ejects the offending tape, throwing it into the glove compartment as he starts to root around for another.

Oswald is expecting the worst when Edward finds the tape he’s looking for. Some melancholy indie music, country or even pop, god forbid. So when Freddie Mercury starts whispering that he’s the _Invisible Man_ he can’t stop the shocked, disbelieving grin that spreads across his face. Edward’s expression is smug. It’s a good look on him.

“Can we go now?” He says, preparing to reverse again.

“Less of the sass from you.”

“Remember who’s driving,” Ed responds as they glide out of the parking lot.

Oswald raises his eyebrows. He’s enchanted and impressed by this Ed, the one who’s not afraid to answer back.

They spend the whole drive to the theme park singing along to Queen songs. It’s pure joy.

 

* * *

 

Gotham Theme Park is a gnarled, dilapidated wreck of a place. Oswald thinks Tim Burton’s location scouts would have a field day with it. The sky is a very dark murky grey, ominously promising _something_. These types of clouds seem to hover permanently above Gotham. He has sat in his favourite spot by the Metro-Narrows bridge before, watching the sun beat down on Metropolis while a thunderstorm rages over Gotham. He often wonders what it would be like to feel that sun on his face, and why it is that Gotham must be the darkness to Metropolis’ light.

He hears screams somewhere above him and in the distance. Even if it wasn’t agony for him to sit in the tiny rollercoaster cars, he’s not willing to risk his life to ride on them. The place should really be shut for winter. It hasn’t snowed yet, but when it gets cold enough, it will freeze parts of the rides. It’s killed people before. And yet people continue to come, almost as if they _want_ to take a chance with their lives, as if it’s thrilling for them. Health and safety doesn’t exist in Gotham City.

They’re in the queue to get a photo with a peregrine falcon. Oswald is in two minds about it. Firstly, he obviously thinks the bird should be free, soaring above the trees, somewhere far away from the dirt and smog of Gotham. But there’s also the fact that he can’t wait to see such a magnificent bird up close.

He can hear it screeching as it’s forced to sit on arm after arm, and Oswald can’t help hatching a plan in his mind to rescue it and set it free. Maybe one day when he’s rich and powerful he will set all of them free.

When its his turn, the protective glove is handed to him and the bird is lured onto his arm with meat. Once on his forearm it simply sits there quietly. The handler seems at a loss for words. Oswald smiles at the bird, and it seems to look right back at him. Oswald moves his other arm slowly, and begins to stroke the feathers of its front with his hooked index finger. The bird remains unruffled and quiet. _I wish I could fly_ , Oswald thinks. _Away from all my problems_. They have a freedom he never will.

When they get back to the main street of the theme park, Edward turns to him animatedly as they stroll side by side.

“That was _amazing_. You clearly have a gift.”

“I don’t know about that. More sympathy than most, maybe.”

Edward’s excitement dies down a little as he looks thoughtfully at Oswald. Eventually, when Oswald doesn’t elaborate, he looks away.

“Oh hey look, you want me to try to win you something?” Ed says, pointing to one of those stalls where you have to shoot targets to win prizes.

As Oswald looks at it, a memory unwittingly comes to mind. He looks at the seemingly innocent stuffed animals, waiting to be won by love struck morons trying to impress their dates.

He thinks of the one he won for Jim, and the next time he saw it after. His heart squeezes.

 

* * *

 

_May, Senior Year_

_Oswald’s never been to Jim’s house, in all the time they’ve been dating. He’s brought Jim back for dinner at his apartment a couple of times, mainly so his mother could spoil the boy who was the reason that her son came home from school each day with a smile on his face, retreating immediately to his room so he could send Jim messages telling him how much he missed him already. Getrud loves Jim, often sent Oswald off to school with cakes she’d baked for them to share._

_The situation at school is a little bit bizarre. It seems to Oswald that the student body doesn’t really know what to do about the athletic golden boy dating the weird goth kid, so nobody does anything at all. They’ve never been overly showy with their affection, but sometimes they enter the school holding hands, or Jim kisses him goodbye when they separate to go to different classes. For the first time in his life, Owald isn’t being bullied, and he feels happy and accepted. Of course this doesn’t mean he’s suddenly best friends with Jim’s friends, they all keep him at a distance, but Oswald doesn’t care. Everyone leaves him alone, and he gets to be with the boy he loves. This is all he ever wanted._

_Jim’s house is a typical suburban affair outside the city. It seems the sun does actually reach these parts because every home has a cultivated garden and an abundance of colourful flowers. It couldn’t be more removed from Oswald’s dark and dreary apartment building in the city. The sunshine hurts his eyes and he blinks rapidly in discomfort, hurrying inside the house behind Jim._

_Jim’s parents are away for the weekend, or so Jim says. He didn’t give details, in fact, he very rarely talks about his parents at all. Part of Oswald, a part of him he generally keeps on lockdown, thinks Jim doesn’t trust him, and that’s his reason for not telling them about him. Maybe he sees Oswald as a temporary thing and therefore doesn’t want to extend the effort required in telling his parents he has a boyfriend. Oswald’s insecurities and jealousies are endless._

_Oswald toes off his shoes and follows Jim upstairs. Jim opens the door to his room and gestures for Oswald to enter._

_It’s a typical boys room, football posters, scantily clad women and trophies. Oswald feels immediately out of place. He looks down at his The Clash T-shirt then looks to Jim, unsure._

_Jim closes the door behind him a slowly approaches Oswald. He slides his hands under the T-shirt, running his hands over Oswald’s stomach._

_“Oh hey look, a bed. _”__

_Oswald snorts. “Smooth. _”__

_“You wanna go lay on it? _”__

_Oswald leans in close and says quietly in his ear, “if you take your clothes off. _”__

_Jim raises his eyebrows before flailing as he races to remove all his clothing. Oswald laughs. When Jim is naked in front of him he pushes him backward until he falls down on the bed. The stuffed penguin Oswald had won for him at the high school carnival a couple of weeks prior loses its balance and face plants._

_“Wait,” Jim says, scrambling onto his stomach so he can reach under the bed. After a bit of fumbling he slides out a small box. He peels off the lid and retrieves a couple of small items. Oswald is sure he glimpsed a porn magazine in there. And it didn’t have women on the cover._

_“Here, _”_ Jim says, handing him the items. Oswald perches on his knees on the bed and takes them. The lube isn’t a surprise, especially since they discovered how much Jim likes being fingered, but the condoms…well._

_Oswald must have spaced because the next thing he registers is Jim resting his hand over the top of his. He dimly realises that his hand is shaking._

_“It’s okay if you’re not ready, _”_ Jim says gently. “I can wait. _”__

_Oswald takes a steadying breath. “I’m ready. It’s just I’ve never— _”__

_“Me neither, _”_ Jim says. He pulls Oswald down to lay beside him on the bed._

_Oswald puts the lube and the condoms on the nightstand and cuddles into Jim’s side. “We both know that’s not true. _”__

_“It is though, _”_ Jim mutters into Oswald’s hair, idly stroking up and down Oswald’s upper arm. _

_“Popular boy, Jim Gordon? I think not. _”__

_“It’s the first time with someone I love. _”__

_Oswald gasps. He leans up on one arm to be able look down on Jim’s face._

_“You_ love _me? _”_ Oswald’s heart is so full of a good kind of hurt that he can hardly breathe._

_Jim smiles and nods as he pulls Oswald down for a kiss. Oswald has to pull away as his emotions refuse to be contained any longer. He burrows back into Jim’s side as the sobs take over. He hates how much his emotions control him; he wishes he could be one of those ice cold people who never show what they’re feeling. Oswald thinks he might as well get a heart tattooed onto his arm as part of the sleeve he’s planning._

_“I’m sorry. This isn’t very sexy, _”_ Oswald says, reaching for the box of tissues on the nightstand. _

_“On the contrary, I think things are about to get_ very _sexy, _”_ Jim says, wiggling his eyebrows. Oswald can’t help but chuckle. Once he’s dabbed at his eyes and his nose, he throws the tissue into the bin. He turns to look down at Jim, smiling. As they stare at each other, the mood begins to change. Oswald’s heart recommences thundering in his chest._

_“Touch me, Oswald. _”_ Jim’s voice is rough._

_Oswald can’t help but oblige._

_\---_

_Afterward, they kiss lazily, until they fall asleep, naked and wrapped around each other._

_Oswald would spend many hours wishing he’d just left afterward, even though it would have been a pretty cold thing to do. Most often he wishes they’d never fallen asleep – maybe they would have heard the footsteps on the stairs, the knock on the door – and Oswald could have hidden. So many what-ifs._

_Oswald wakes up when he’s physically being pulled away from Jim. The second thing he registers is someone shouting, a female voice. “_ WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON?”

_It’s too much to process at once. It’s a man who’s dragged him away from Jim and let him drop to the floor by the side of the bed. Must be Jim’s father. Oswald roots around for his clothes, burning with humiliation at being naked in front of Jim’s parents._

_“I want you to get out of my house, immediately.” Jim’s father says, every word enunciated angrily. “If you come anywhere near James again, I’ll make sure you wish you’d never been born.”_

_Oswald looks desperately at Jim. Jim doesn’t look back; he has the duvet pulled right up around himself. His face is red and he’s staring straight ahead, unseeing. He looks completely despondent, as if in a trance._

_It just gets worse when Jim’s mother starts crying and blaming herself. “I don’t know what I did wrong. I thought he was happy, healthy,_ normal _…”_

_Oswald feels sick. He’s waiting for Jim to respond, to defend him, to say he’s not the boy that corrupted him. He waits for Jim to say they were equals in this, that they made the decision together… But he just stares._

_Jim’s father, however, is fuming. “Are you deaf as well as queer? GET OUT!” he shouts at Oswald._

_Finally his muscles jolt him into movement and he goes as fast as his leg will allow him down the stairs and out of the house. Once he gets through the gate at the end of the garden, he falls painfully to his knees and leans over to retch._

_Once he’s completely emptied the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk, he dry heaves a couple of times, still feeling like he’s choking from the inside. The pain, both physical and otherwise, threatens to swallow him whole._

_The only thing that eventually gets him on his feet again, is the thought of his mother. He stands up slowly, and starts limping in the direction of the city. It’s a long way, at least ten miles, but he has no money and he left his phone at home – who would he call anyway? The main reason he even got it was Jim. The only person who would be willing to come and get him would be his mother, who neither owns a car nor drives. He had been under the assumption that Jim would drive him home again later._

_The thought of Jim almost makes him stop, but he forces himself to carry on. He shuts down his brain and just focuses on the physical feat required of him to get home._

_\---_

_At school on Monday, Oswald waits at their spot by his locker. It will be okay – Jim’s never lied to him, betrayed him, or ever done anything to make Oswald doubt him. He was just in shock at having unwittingly come out to his parents in pretty much the worst way possible. Oswald would help him through it. They can do this together, Oswald knows they can._

_He waits a long time. He’d gotten the earlier bus so he could give them more time together – he’d been so sure Jim would get to school early too._

_Then, right before the bell, he sees him. He’s with his jock friends. Normally he would separate from them and come over, failing miserably at not touching him – something they’d agreed would make their lives easier. No need to parade their unconventional relationship in front of would-be bullies. Jim would fail at this resolution every time – he’d slip his arms around Oswald’s waist and kiss him on the cheek, seemingly uncaring, and Oswald would blush fiercely, secretly delighted._

_But Jim doesn’t come over. He barely glances at him before lowering his head and keeping it down as he follows his friends right past Oswald._

_Oswald is frozen to the spot. He hugs his books tightly to his chest, clenches them hard in his grip. He distantly notices that groups of people in the hallway are staring at him, chattering, whispering. He hears vitriol and malice for the first time in months._

_That’s it, it’s over. He can feel his bottom lip trembling and he bites it to make it stop, trying to stem the tears that threaten to spill over. The boy he loved told him that he loved him too. They made love, because there’s nothing else to call sex that sweet and emotional. Two days later they are no more._

_Oswald stands on the precipice. He can let his heart completely shatter and give up and walk away from school completely. He’s lost his shield against the school social hierarchy now too, which will make the remainder of his time at Gotham High extraordinarily miserable. It would be a blessing not to have to see any of these spineless brats again, that’s for sure._

_Or he can squash his feelings so far down that they don’t matter. He can ignore everyone and everything that doesn’t have a direct on his academic career. He wants to go to college, he wants to better himself so he can provide his mother with a better lifestyle, and a break from her awful job. That’s always been his goal. If he focuses he can overcome this and begin to repay his mother for everything she’s done for him. He won’t think of or mention_ Jim _ever again. He won’t let his betrayal ruin his life. And he won’t ever allow anyone the chance to get that close,_ ever _again._

 

* * *

 

“No, but thank you.” Oswald says, stiffly.

Ed looks a little disappointed but quickly perks up. “It’s just as well. I’m a poor shot anyway.”

They continue walking past the garish entertainments of the theme park in silence, the weak afternoon light fading fast. It’s bitingly cold and Oswald’s leg is particularly painful because of it. He has to talk to Edward. The longer they walk in silence, the harder he finds it to break it. _Coward_. He looks around for a bench but doesn’t see one. To hell with it. He’ll just do it right there in one of the fake streets.

“Ed, I need to talk to you. Do you think—”

“Oh my god they have a haunted house,’ Edward excitedly cuts in. “We have to go!”

Oswald sighs. This is like a bad movie. He trails after Edward as he heads for the clapboard horror movie house to the right of the main street. The sign above the door proclaims in text designed to look like blood smears ‘house of horrors.’ Oswald hears screams coming from within and cringes. Oswald’s seen so many horror movies he imagines the actors that work in the place will do nothing to him except make him suffer from second hand embarrassment.

They show the teenage boy at the door their tickets and he gestures behind himself and to the right before saying in the most monotone voice possible, “follow the under-floor lights.”

Edward leads as they head down a corridor which is pitch black except for the aforementioned lights. Oswald can hear Edward’s shaky breath as he leads them into the gloom, clearly jumpy despite his previous excitement. Possibly another attempt to show off his bravado. Oswald smirks despite himself.

Then the creaking door and howling wind sound effects start, and Oswald has to stop himself from laughing outright. Then it all dies down to complete silence. Oswald can tell from Edward’s breaths that he’s even more unnerved. Suddenly a spotlight shines up from the floor to reveal an Pennywise-like clown and Edward lets out a most undignified shriek. It gets worse when the clown appears to take its own head off and hold it up by the hair.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” Edward mutters, wheezing slightly and turning back to Oswald, his hand on his heart. Even in the extremely dim lighting he can see how pale Edward has gone. Over Edward’s shoulder Oswald sees the clown unzip the top of his costume, revealing that he does in fact have a head. He winks at Oswald before disappearing back into the darkness.

“Do you want me to go in front, Ed?”

“I think that might be best,” Edward reluctantly concedes. He stands to the side to let Oswald pass.

At the end of the corridor the lights lead upstairs. Another soundtrack starts playing. Maniacal laughter. Terrifying.

At the top of the stairs there’s doorways on both sides but only one has the continuing lights. He guesses they are supposed to take a look in the one without before continuing. He steps inside, Edward close behind. He waits, staring into the gloom.

Eventually a projector shows a girl clad in a white period dress hanging from a noose in the centre of the room, struggling with the grip as it squeezes the life out of her. She screams and reaches towards them for help. Oswald does nothing except raise an unimpressed eyebrow. He already knows what’s going to happen next. The projection suddenly stops and before their eyes can adjust properly the girl appears right in front of them yelling,“why didn’t you save me?”

Oswald stares the actress down. Seconds pass. Eventually he sees her break character and look disgruntled before the spotlight on her turns off. As Oswald contemplates getting back to the lights, he realises that Edward has a hand on each of his shoulders, his forehead leaning on one of them, breathing hard. Edward is literally hiding behind him.

“You think you can handle more?” Oswald asks, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“I think more might send me into cardiac arrest.”

Oswald snorts.

“If I die in here, I want you to donate my body to science,” he continues, standing upright and allowing Oswald to pass him into the next room. Oswald laughs heartily. He’s having the best time, except now thinking that fact makes him feel guilty about the ever-present task looming in the back of his mind. His thoughts are tugging him into yet another self-loathing guilt spiral, and that’s why he isn’t prepared for what happens next: babies that look like the Seed of Chucky suddenly drop from the ceiling and hang there, their eyes illuminated. Oswald does a full body jump. One of the dolls hangs right in front of his face. He bats it away angrily.

As his heartbeat eventually slows down, he looks at the doll swinging happily from side to side in front of his face. “Fuck you,” he grumbles.

He hears Edward burst into laughter behind him. Oswald turns around to see Edward doubled over and gasping for breath as his laughter approaches hysterical. Generally Oswald hates being laughed at, but this right here is a thing of beauty. Someone so guarded, shy and unsure laughing so freely, well, Oswald’s proud he created that. He smiles as he watches, feeling warm and happy. Eventually Edward stands up, taking deep breaths to compose himself. “I’m sorry.”

Oswald is smiling, but he shakes his head in mock disapproval. He turns around and begins following the lights out of the room and down the stairs.

“I think you might have to donate my body to science too.” Oswald says over his shoulder.

And that sets Edward off again.

 

* * *

 

When they emerge from the House of Horrors, night has fully descended. The frosty air sobers him somewhat from their playfulness inside the House.

He needs to tell Edward and he needs to do it now.

“Ed, I really need to talk to you. I have to tell you something. It’s important.”

“Oh, okay,” Edward says. He’s using his sleeve to de-fog his glasses. Edward squints in his direction and it’s adorable. “Do you want to get dinner first or—?”

“No, it has to be now.” Oswald’s tone doesn’t leave any room for disagreement.

“Okay well, where do you...?”

Oswald would go for it right there and then, but he doesn't think his leg can take standing up for the length of this conversation.

“I know somewhere we can go, it’s not a long walk from here.”

Edward swallows and nods. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

There’s rarely anyone at Oswald’s spot, the bench beside the river with the view of the Metro-Narrows Bridge and the skyline of the city of Metropolis. Especially now with temperatures dropping by the day. Oswald takes a seat on the bench and Edward sits beside him, leaving the distance of an invisible person between them. Oswald has a feeling that Edward knows what’s coming isn’t going to be good.

He takes a deep breath.

“Ed, I can’t pretend I don’t know what’s going on here.” Oswald resolutely keeps his eyes on the glittering skyline.

“What do you... What do you mean?” Edward asks.

“You like me.”

Oswald hears Edward’s breath catch. He can feel Edward’s stare suddenly boring into the side of his face. Oswald knows if he looks at Edward right now that his resolve will crumble.

“And I can’t—I don’t...” Fuck. Try again. “I can’t date you.”

Silence. Just the sloshing of the water in the river below, the general whirr of the traffic. Edward hasn’t moved at all.

“Something happened and I can’t, I’m not...” Oswald takes a calming breath, still not looking at Edward. He’s going to have to though. He’s going to have to engage Edward, if he wants him to understand. He finally turns to look at him.

Edward’s expression makes Oswald’s heart squeeze painfully. It’s confused and hurt, but the worst thing there is the resignation. Like a part of him always expected this to happen. Oswald has to make him understand.

“Have you ever been in love, Ed?” Maybe if he’s been scorned by love before he will understand. It’s a long shot, given his apparent anxiety, but Oswald knows next to nothing about his past. And the guy is pretty much beautiful in every way, so it’s entirely possible he's got a past love.

Edward immediately looks away and down at his knees. Oswald watches his jaw clench, eyes closed, breathing in deeply through his nose. He turns back to Oswald, meeting and holding his gaze so his reply can leave no doubt as to who he means.

“ _Yes_.”

Oswald’s brain screeches to a halt. Everything he’d planned to say goes straight out of his head. Edward’s _in love_ with him?

“Ed…” Oswald starts, but he has no idea how to continue. He had no idea how far this had gotten. He finds himself just staring at Edward, willing himself not to cry from the guilt. He’s been crying so much lately. And it would be selfish to make this about his emotional breakdown.

Edward slides along the bench and hesitantly places a hand on Oswald’s knee. It’s his bad knee and the heat sears comfortingly through his trousers.

“Oswald,” he says, his voice sounding like it’s been dragged over gravel. “Is there _nothing_ I can say to persuade you to give me a chance?”

Oswald looks at Edward, at the hair made even more curly by the cold damp weather, at his designer clothes, at his lips that have been bitten raw. He feels a rush of affection that he knows is dangerous. All he wants to do is take Edward’s hand in his own, caress his knuckles with his thumb, show him with tender touches how much he matters. He wants to close the distance and give Edward everything he wants. _Everything_. Edward’s eyebrows are tilting upwards in a pleading look that breaks Oswald’s heart.

“No. I’m sorry.”

Edward looks distraught.

“Ed, there’s more you should know. You need to understand—”

Edward holds up a hand, sliding away from him and standing up. Oh God, he’s going to leave thinking Oswald’s saying no because he doesn’t want him. Oswald stands up too, too quickly because his leg gives an almighty throb of pain.

“You don’t need to explain. I understand. I don’t think I’d want to date me either.”

“Ed! That’s not it, you don’t know the full story, it’s not that simple—”

“It seems quite simple to me. I love you. You don’t love me back.”

Oswald is frozen to the spot. _I love you_. Oswald wishes he could get himself to say something. _Anything_. The silence between them seems to last centuries. _I love you._

“I… I have to go get my car before they lock up for the night. You… don’t need a ride do you?”

Oswald closes his eyes. He just broke Edward’s heart, and the guy’s still offering to take him home. Oswald has never felt this wretched. Even that night Jim’s parents threw him out didn’t tear up his heart this way. He half-wishes Edward would throw him in the river. He deserves it.

“No. Thank you.” Oswald says, slowly sitting back down.

Edward stands there a moment longer, behind the bench. Oswald can feel his weight of his stare on the back of his head.

“Goodbye, Oswald.”

The finality of his tone is unmistakable. He hears Edward’s footsteps and leaves it a while before giving in to the temptation to look. Oswald watches Edward retrace their steps back towards the theme park, a terribly lonely figure under the street lamps.

He sits there half an hour more, long after Edward’s silhouette has faded. He looks up at the towering Metropolis skyline and it does nothing for him. He normally feels inspired and uplifted by it. Right now all he feels is shame, guilt and pain. It threatens to overwhelm him. But he doesn’t want to have an emotional breakdown in public. It’s that thought that gets him up and heading towards the nearest subway station.

 

* * *

 

After letting himself into the apartment, the first thing he sees is his mother sleeping on the sofa. He’d wanted to sob in her arms, but he’s not selfish enough to wake her up. He hobbles as quietly as he can over to the sofa and grabs the throw from the armchair in the corner and gently lays it over her.

He then hobbles to his room, hoping that at the very least, sleep will bring him a blissful oblivion of nothingness.

His leg is hurting more than it usually does because of the cold, and as a result it makes him clumsier than usual when changing out of his clothes. He knocks a book off the nightstand and its weight makes a resounding thud. Oswald cringes at the noise and hopes it didn’t wake his mother. He stands silently for a moment but hears no movement.

It’s the book Edward gifted him. He has kept it by his bed since it came into his possession, except when he takes it to classes. It’s one of his most precious belongings.

He kneels down, hoping he hasn’t damaged it. It’s laying open, the title page pointing upwards. As he flattens it, he notices it – the message.

 _Many thousands have been_  
_An infinite number is to come_  
_Your birthday is one you’ll never forget_  
_What am I?_

A date.

 _“Did you see anything you liked in the book?”_  Edward had said.

Edward had tried to ask him out on a date as early as the second time he came into the café.

Oswald traces his finger over Edward’s handwriting, trying and failing not to cry.


	7. Chapter 7

“Well that was a _monumental_ failure,” Other-Ed says from the passenger seat.

Ed, who’d been leaning his head on the steering wheel, isn’t even surprised to see him sitting there. He’d known it was only a matter of time.

“I did try to warn you. Without me you are a sad, pathetic shell of a human. Who’s going to date that?”

Ed clings to the steering wheel. _Please leave me alone. Please._

“How could I desert you now? You need me more than ever. Someone has to teach you how to _be a man_.”

“Please, can’t you just let me try and cope with this like a normal person?”

“What so you can go back to being the same sad-sack you were before? I don’t think so.”

“Well unless you want us both to die, you’re going to have to leave me alone while I drive back to campus,” Ed says, still not looking at the passenger seat as he fishes in his pocket for his car keys. It takes several attempts because his hands are shaking, but eventually he gets the key into the ignition.

“Or you could just let me in. Imagine it, if you let me take over you won’t have to feel _anything_ … All that heartache and embarrassment that’s _eating you up_ \- I can erase it for you.”

Ed hates himself for being tempted. He had had no idea that unrequited love would hurt this much. That love itself _could_ be this unbearable. He looks across to Other-Him.

“I can _help_ you. Help _us_.” Other-Him says.

Ed doesn’t have the strength to shoulder both his pain _and_ the hallucinations that are tormenting him. He can’t handle it all at once – and maybe he doesn’t want to anymore. It would be _so good_ to be free of not just the pain in his heart now, but his worries and insecurities too, things that plague him on a daily basis. It’s exhausting, and for the first time in a long time, he just doesn’t want to be _him_ anymore. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat.

He gives in.

It’s like a total calm comes over him. The pain in his heart fades. His blood feels like it’s humming with completion.

He starts the ignition. The Queen tape starts playing. He momentarily falters before ejecting the tape and pulling the spool out in a fit of rage. He throws the remains of the destroyed tape in the direction of the passenger seat.

He turns his attention to the radio and goes through station after station until he finds one playing heavy rock. In This Moment’s _Joan of Arc_ is playing. He turns it up full blast as he exits the theme park parking lot. When he reaches the highway, he floors the mustang, tyres screeching and burning. He throws his head back and starts to laugh.

 

* * *

 

Ed pulls into the parking lot of the first liquor store he sees. Walking into the place, he fancies himself a cowboy walking into a saloon, stopping just inside the door and surveying the place.

“What do you say, Eddie boy?” he mutters to the version of himself that’s stuck in the back seat. “Are we in a wine mood or do we want something a bit _harder_?”

He walks down the first isle, eyeing a tall man with black hair as he passes. He allows the arm of his coat to brush with the strangers’. He carries on walking, glancing back at the stranger, only his cheekbone and eyes visible above the collar of the coat. He turns at the end of the isle and starts walking down the next one. He hears footsteps behind him and he knows his new friend is following. _Excellent_. Ed stops, turns around and stands in the middle of the aisle, a clear challenge. The man slowly approaches and comes to a halt in front of Ed, more than a hint of lust in his eyes. The guy looks like one of the characters from Grease with his slicked back hair and boyish looks. Ed pushes him into one of the shelves with his index finger, hearing the guy gasp as his back makes impact.

“You see how easy it is?” Ed’s not talking to his prey. “You could have _anyone_.” He grips the stranger’s face, his own inches away. His pupils are almost completely dilated and Ed knows he could do anything, have _anything_. He leans back and looks down, seeing the tell-tale swell of arousal. He gives a low chuckle before leaning back in, brushing their lips together. The sudden screaming inside his head is almost deafening. He staggers backward and it stops.

“Well, I’d love to stay and get to _know_ you, but I have a guy riding shotgun who ruins all my fun.”

All the guy does is stare at him, dazed.

Ed swivels on his heel theatrically and heads towards the checkout, grabbing a bottle of red on his way.

 

* * *

 

Jim had been hesitant when Harvey suggested they hit a bar instead of watching the TV in the dorm room. He wanted to be there when Ed returned; he was worried about what might have happened. He knew from the last time he spoke to Oswald, prior to his unfortunate visit to the café, that he never intended to date anyone ever again. For all Jim knew, Ed might be the one to break that rule. But he also knew that Oswald was pig-headed and stubborn and that this might go badly for Ed. He felt bad for not telling Ed he knew who it was he was going to meet, though he had only known since he’d come back wearing Oswald’s shirt a couple of weeks prior. Nonetheless, he had wrestled with whether he should tell Ed, ultimately deciding that what happened between himself and Oswald was Oswald’s story to tell. It wasn’t fair to arm Ed with knowledge that might catch Oswald unawares. Jim doesn’t want to give Oswald another reason to hate him.

Jim doesn’t enjoy his evening watching the game at the bar with Harvey. He’s not even really watching it, he’s constantly looking at his phone in case he’s got a text from Ed. He fires one off at around ten saying that Ed should text or call him if he needs him. Eleven comes and goes without a response.

Eventually he gives up the ghost and tells Harvey he’s leaving. He barely pays attention to Jim, so distracted as he is attempting to chat up some freshmen. He pats Harvey on the back and makes his way back to the dorms.

 

* * *

 

Jim pauses outside the door to their room, hearing some very loud obnoxious pop music coming from within. He knows from that alone that what’s going on inside is not going to be good.

He opens the door and sees Ed sitting on the floor, his back against his bed. There’s an empty bottle of wine next to him.

“Shit,” Jim utters.

Ed can’t hold his alcohol. One time when Harvey was hanging out in their room, he gave Ed a couple of beers to get him to loosen up a bit and ‘stop being such a nerd’. The result was that Ed was all over Jim like a koala, telling him how happy he was that he was his friend. Jim did secretly think it was cute, a fact he will take with him to his grave.

Ed looks up, and Jim instantly knows it’s not _Ed_.

“Jim! You’re back! Don’t suppose you brought more alcohol with you did you? I’d offer you some wine, but I drank it all.”

“Nope, sorry man,” he says calmly as he goes to turn the music off.

“It’s not a problem,” Ed says, leaning his head back against the bed. His eyes are unfocused. “We can make our own fun.”

Jim raises his eyebrows. “What happened, Ed?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ed slurs. “You wanna join me down here?” He pats the space on the floor next to him. Jim doesn’t move.  


He’s had some run-ins with Ed’s ‘Other-Him’ as Ed himself calls him, but he’s never been this forward with him before. He gingerly kneels down, facing Ed. He’s more than a little disconcerted to notice that Ed’s face is streaked with tears, even as he laughs.

“Tell me what happened, Ed.”

“I’d rather you kissed me.”

In a sudden movement, Jim sits astride Ed’s legs, and grips his face in both his hands. “Tell me what happened, _Ed_ ,” he says more forcefully.

“Sorry, Ed can’t come to the phone right now. He’s indisposed.” Ed throws his head back and starts laughing again, as his eyes fill with more tears. Jim grips Ed’s head tighter and forces it back to face him.

“That’s okay, I’ve got all night.”

It’s heart-breaking to watch Ed at war with himself. He touches his forehead against Ed’s and looks into his eyes. “I’m here for you Ed. Take as long as you need.”

Ed shakes his head and struggles in Jim’s grip and Jim knows there’s a battle going on that only Ed can hear. Eventually he goes still, but doesn’t say anything, his eyes glazed over.

The moments tick by and they seem endless as he waits. It’s starting to hurt his knees, and he’s turning to get up, when he hears a low whimper from Ed. Jim turns back to Ed so fast he almost gets whiplash.

“Ed?”

 _“Jim_.”

Jim sighs with relief. “Talk to me, are you okay?”

“It hurts.” A fresh wave of tears fall down his cheeks.

“Drinking a whole bottle of wine when you hardly ever drink will do that to you.”

“Not that,” Ed says, putting his hand across his heart.

“Oh Ed,” Jim says, putting his forehead against Ed’s again, attempting to wipe the tears away with his thumbs. “I think you need to sleep it off. Come on.”

Jim stands up and cringes as his bones crack. He holds out his hand to help Ed up; Ed is very unsteady and almost falls into Jim.

“You okay to get cleaned up?”

“I think so.” Ed shuffles slowly towards the bathroom.

Jim goes to Ed’s drawers and retrieves some pyjamas, handing them to Ed. While Ed is in the bathroom, Jim gets changed himself. He puts some aspirin on Ed’s nightstand, and fetches a glass to fill with water when Ed’s done. Ed comes out of the bathroom, still a bit like Bambi on his feet. Jim puts his hand on his shoulder as he passes to brush his teeth and fill the glass with water.

When comes back out, he finds Ed laying on his bed, his glasses on his nightstand. His eyes are already closed, but he’s not asleep. Jim puts the water on the nightstand and moves the aspirin. He then crosses the room to sleep in Ed’s bed, assuming that in his drunken state, Ed just got on the nearest bed.

“I’m scared he’ll come back,” Ed murmurs sleepily. “I would feel safer if you were beside me.”

“I’m only ever across the room from you, Ed.” He’s never requested anything this close to the edge of the boundaries of friendship before. But then, Ed has never been this vulnerable before.

“I’ll go back to my bed if it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No, it’s alright. If it makes you feel safe. I’ll get some of your covers so you don’t get cold. And I’ll get under mine so we don’t accidentally touch. Drink that water before you go to sleep.”

Ed obediently leans up and slowly drinks the water. He shuffles back down as Jim tucks his duvet around him. Jim switches off the light and clambers into his bed beside Ed.

It’s quiet for a while. Jim stares at Ed’s outline, wondering what happened. The result is obvious, but he can’t help inwardly speculating about what was said. Even though he’s long since made his peace with the mistakes he made in high school, he still can’t avoid the familiar feeling of guilt – his actions are at the root of all of this. But it’s no good going down that road again. Many things might be different if he had stood up to his parents. But he was just a kid. A terrified, traumatised, stupid kid.

Jim’s finally closing his eyes when Ed says quietly, “thank you, Jim.”

Jim smiles sadly. In the morning, they will talk. And eventually, Jim resolves, they will fix this. Ed deserves to be happy.

 

* * *

 

Oswald hired Victor because he seemed pretty mellow, a nice contrast to Ivy’s chipper temperament. So it’s a bit of a mystery as to how he ended up watching Victor twirl Ivy as they dance to The Cure’s _Just Like Heaven_.

Remembering their conversation at Victor’s ‘interview’, Oswald had brought his Greatest Hits CD to welcome Victor on his first day. It’s going a bit _too_ well. Oswald’s trying to keep his grumpy face on and it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

He catches Nora’s eye and she’s giggling at Victor and Ivy’s antics from her position at a table in the window. Oswald likes her, and he can see what Victor sees in her. She’s one of those people that despite their obvious struggle with the hand life dealt them, maintains a sunny disposition, and somehow shines brighter for their difficulties.

 _Never Enough_ starts playing, but Victor and Ivy don’t stop dancing. Other patrons in the café this morning seem bemused by it, and even Oswald, despite the rain cloud that’s been following him around since he woke up, doesn’t have the heart to stop the joyful atmosphere in the café.

A new customer approaches the counter and Victor stops and immediately attends to them. They ask for a caramel latte and Oswald steps in to assist, but Victor holds up a hand. “I got this, boss.”

Oswald watches him in the corner of the eye, making sure he puts the right number of caramel shots in the mug. Victor dithers a little longer than necessary and Oswald is about to approach when Victor turns to him with the cup in a saucer, holding it low enough for him to inspect.

Victor has created snowflake art in the frothy top of the drink. Oswald glances up at Ivy who raises her eyebrows at him, impressed.

Victor sets the latte on the counter and goes through the motions of taking payment without making a single error. The customer smiles at the art in their mug, telling Victor how ‘neat’ it is. Once the customer goes to sit down at a table, he turns around to find Oswald and Ivy gawking at him.

“What?”

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Ivy asks.

Victor looks a bit sheepish. “I may or may not have practised a bit.”

Oswald gives himself a mental pat on the back. He inadvertently hired the Van Gogh of coffee.

“I have some stencils too. You know, for chocolate sprinkles and cinnamon. I thought since it’s nearly Christmas it would be nice to add a bit of festive cheer…”

Victor trails off and Oswald can tell he’s worried he’s overstepped.

The truth is, Oswald had forgotten that Christmas was around the corner. His life is split between his apartment, his job and the three classes a week that he attends. Although he’s worked at the café for nearly two years, the first Christmas didn’t really feel much like Christmas. Miss Mooney herself was the manager of the place, but Oswald was basically acting manager most of the time because she simply wasn’t there. And all Miss Mooney deigned to put in to celebrate the holidays was a small depressed looking tree in one corner.

This year would be different. Themed drinks, fairy lights, a healthy looking tree that Ivy can look after. Oswald knows his target market well, they all want something they can snap on their smartphones and put on Instagram. If he makes the café look even more rustic and cute with tasteful decorations and arty drinks, they will come in droves. The cogs in his brain are turning fast with all the possibilities.

“Victor,” he says, eyes alight with ideas, “you’re a genius.”

 

* * *

 

Oswald manages to secure a decoration allowance from Miss Mooney when he calls her that afternoon. He explains his (and Victor’s) ideas and how it will drive up the profit margin and she simply asks him how much he needs. He says that while it’s no small sum, once he’s invested in these decorations, they don’t need to be bought again; they can simply be stored away in a box to be reused the following year. Miss Mooney, who rarely dishes out compliments, tells him he will make an extraordinary businessman one day. Oswald is so overwhelmed by the praise he has to grip the counter to steady himself.

When they close up for the day at five, Oswald assigns Victor the task of acquiring decorations for the tree and the fairy lights. He tells him he wants the lights to be clear coloured and long enough to go around all the windows, giving Victor the rough measurements of them. He more or less gives him free reign with the decorations, telling him his only requirement is that they are elegant rather than tacky. He thanks Victor sincerely for coming in and bringing new ideas, before they part ways. Himself and Ivy take the subway to the Garden Center on the other side of Gotham. Their mission is to find the tree.

As they wander the trees on display in the lot in the outdoor area, silence descends between them. They had been chatting quite animatedly on the subway about how they were going to arrange the decorations, and the names they could give their special festive drinks. Oswald can tell now that she’s got him alone, she wants to ask about the previous day, but she doesn’t want to upset him. The strange thing is, he finds himself _needing_ to talk to someone about it. But he knows he can’t just talk about the previous day without filling her in on what happened with Jim too. It’s all or nothing.

He breathes in deeply; he loves the smell of the pines, even though it makes him feel sad in the way he did with the peregrine falcon. They should be growing tall and reaching for the sky in the forests to the north. Nevertheless, the smell is calming, and he’s able to order his thoughts.

“When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend called Jim...” he begins, and the words start tumbling out of him. He tells her everything, how for a time the bullying stopped because Jim was the popular boy, how they never had to hide their relationship, how ridiculously sweet and perfect things had been between them. When he gets to that evening where Jim’s parents threw him out, he starts stumbling over his words. He has to stop to compose himself.

“While what happened that night was more awful than I can describe, it was what happened next that hurt the most. He just acted like I didn’t exist. After everything we shared together, it was just suddenly like it meant nothing.”

Ivy is gingerly touching the tree branches and not looking at Oswald. The fact she’s not staring at him helps him keep talking.

“We did come face to face one more time. Before that time he came into the café the week before finals, I mean. The summer after we graduated, he showed up at my apartment building.” He pauses a moment to give his leg a break. ‘He tried to apologise, explain ‘his side’ of it, as if there was such a thing. But of course by that point, the damage had been done. We weren’t at school anymore. Him approaching me again _then_ could have made the difference in those last weeks, instead of having to endure the bullying. He only came to me again when it wasn’t a problem for him to do so.”

He comes to a stop; he needs a break.

“I like this one,” Ivy says, motioning to a medium size tree that does look like it will be just about right for the café. ‘Shall we order it, then go warm up at the café here?”

After paying and arranging to have the tree delivered, they head to the café and Oswald orders hot chocolates for them both. They sit in the corner that overlooks the plant section of the depot.

“I told Jim never to contact me again. I told him to never speak of what happened again to anyone. I vowed to do the same. Basically, I decided to try and pretend it had never happened. I made the decision on my own to never have a relationship again – it just wasn’t worth the pain. I told Jim that too, that I would never date anyone again. It served no purpose other than to make him feel guilty.

“I pushed those memories so far down that I became kind of numb. There have been guys…one night stands. But they always left me feeling hollow. I kept telling myself it was the best way. I initially thought Ed could be one of those guys. I tried to give him my number, but he never saw it, and then it became something else.”

“And yesterday?” Ivy prompts, gently.

‘It was actually a great afternoon, the most fun I’ve had with anyone, probably ever. Obviously it went downhill when I tried to tell him.” Ed’s face when Oswald had told him that he couldn’t be persuaded floats in his mind. He looks down at the table. It’s an image that isn’t going to stop haunting him any time soon.

“What do you mean, _tried_ to tell him?”

“As in, I told him I couldn’t date him, but didn’t get to the ‘yet’ part, or the ‘why’ part.”

“What happened?”

“He told me…” Oswald swallows and takes a shaky breath. “He told me he was in love with me.”

“Oh, _Ozzie_ ,” Ivy says, reaching across the table to cover Oswald’s hand with hers.

“And my brain just short-circuited and I panicked. I thought he just had a crush on me, and shooting _that_ down was bad enough…”

They’re quiet for a few moments. Then Ivy asks, “so what are you going to do?”

“What _can_ I do? I can’t ask him to wait for me. Both you and my mother were both so certain that he would. But I can’t ask. Not now I’ve broken his heart. I can’t go back and say, please wait for me, on the off chance that one day I’ll be ready to date again…” His voice is getting hoarse from talking so much and he takes a sip of his hot chocolate. ‘His face, when I said no…” Oswald blinks and a couple of tears slide down his cheeks. He hastily wipes them away. “To be loved like that is such an incredible thing. It’s intoxicating. And he was so brave. Braver than I’ll ever be. I didn’t deserve it – but a sick part of me loved the attention, and I feel guilty about that too.” He sighs. “I’m so messed up.”

“Yeah, you are,” Ivy agrees. Oswald lets out an indignant snort at her honesty. ‘But the thing is, you know you are. And you took the steps to avoid getting involved with someone when you weren’t ready. You’re trying to do the right thing, and that’s what matters.” She smiles warmly at him. ‘I do think it would make the difference if he knew the whole story, though. Are you sure you won’t try again?”

“I think the best thing I can do for him is leave him to find his happiness elsewhere. With someone who has a bit less emotional baggage.”

“You don’t know that he doesn’t have his own,” Ivy says, and she does have a point. “Everyone’s fighting their own battle.”

“You’re right,” Oswald says. “But I think space is best for both of us. I don’t want to be selfish. Not anymore at least. I want to let him move on and be happy.”

Ivy smiles, but her eyes don’t. He knows she still wishes he would try again, but she’s letting him win for now.

 

* * *

 

Two days later finds Edward returning from a long day spent entirely at the library. He’s been so embarrassed by his behaviour on Sunday evening that he’s spent as much time away from their dorm room as possible. He’s been up and out early and come back late the past two days. How is he supposed to look Jim in the eye after basically coming onto him then deciding to sleep on his bed? Edward is never touching alcohol ever again. And he’s going to do everything in his power to stop Other-Ed taking control. At least while he’s awake.

Edward knows he should probably take the route across campus, back to his dorm, that doesn’t pass the café. Yet, this late evening, he finds himself weaving towards the café. He pauses across the street, admiring the new decorations despite himself. White fairy lights elegantly border the windows, but the most magnificent, stand-out feature is the tree. It takes pride of place in the right-hand window. It has smaller fairy lights twirled around it, and it’s decorated with icicles and snowflakes that sparkle under all the lights. The silver and blue theme is very elegant.

The café has long since closed for the day, the staff are the only people there. Edward wonders why they haven’t all gone home.

He sees Ivy talking excitedly with someone he’s never seen before, presumably Oswald’s new employee. He’s handsome, and he hates how that observation makes him feel. He feels _that_ voice begin to stir in his mind. He blinks hard and shakes his head.

Ivy suddenly disappears into the back but returns moments later, leading Oswald by his hands out into the main café area. There’s someone else there that he doesn’t recognise, and she’s holding her hands over Oswald’s eyes. Ivy stops and skips over to stand by the new guy. The girl removes her hands with a theatrical flourish and Oswald opens his eyes.

He stares around in wonder at their work, rightly impressed. He’s very dressed down, purple hoody, baggy black jeans and Vans. His hair is swept back instead of hanging to the side of his face like it usually does. It makes him look older; more mature. Edward likes it.

Oswald starts talking and gesturing at everything and Edward knows Oswald is telling them how much he loves it. The blonde, now standing next to the new guy, takes his hand. They look affectionately at each other. Ivy is talking animatedly as she fiddles with the decorations on the tree. Nobody catches Oswald’s the way Oswald’s expression falters as he observes the way the couple look at each other.

Except Edward.

Oswald suddenly turns to look out of the window. Edward hastily steps off the lit path onto the darkness of the manicured grass.

But just as quickly, Oswald looks down again, visibly composing himself by taking a deep breath. He smiles and says something to the other three that has Ivy clapping with delight and the mystery couple smiling and nodding.

Edward wants to move; it’s freezing cold and he’s mentally exhausted from the number of academic articles and chapters from musty tomes he’s forced through his brain. But he stays there in the cold dark, his breath swirling in front of his face, watching as Oswald brings them all steaming mugs. He joins them at the sofa seats in the corner, Ivy and Oswald on one side, the couple on the other. It looks unbearably cosy and Edward yearns to be a part of it. He pictures himself sitting there beside Oswald on the sofa, leaning into him, maybe holding his hand.

He wonders when it will stop hurting.

Edward’s beginning to shiver now, and it’s that which finally gets him to step back into the light of the path.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. It’s a text from Jim.

 _Hey u ok? It’s late._  
_Let me know ur ok._

Edward holds the phone to his chest. That Jim cares about him enough to check in with him means more than he can say, and he feels bad for avoiding him. He’s going to have to face up to his actions and apologise to Jim for how inappropriate he has been. He doesn’t know what he would do without Jim.

Jim would never let him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know, my foreshadowing is as subtle as a brick.


	8. Chapter 8

The holidays are a quiet affair for Oswald. He spends both Christmas and new year at home as per tradition. On Christmas Day, Oswald and Gertrud really push the boat out with regards to food. Because this year they _can_ , with the extra money from Oswald’s managerial position.

Oswald thinks he got a bit drunk on the amount of cherry liquor his mother put in the Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte that she decided to make this year. It loosens Oswald’s tongue and he begins to talk to his mother at length about what happened with Jim. He had resolved to, as part of his letting go, and he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to get quite this deep with Ivy. He had of course told his mother the basic facts at the time, but he never talked to anyone about the trauma the incident left him with. He was too ashamed.

He tells Gertrud how Jim’s parents made him question his identity, and how the whole thing left him feeling disgusted with himself. Mr and Mrs Gordon made him feel like he was ugly and dirty and as a result, his self-worth was completely destroyed.

Why wasn’t he attracted to girls? He had agonized at length over why he was the way he was. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be, what was it Mrs Gordon said, _normal_?

Getrud listened intently, both encouraging and supportive. She told him how proud of him she was, and it’s exactly what he needs. He had come to realise himself over time that there wasn’t anything wrong with the fact he liked boys, but hearing the vocal acceptance from his mother is always welcome. Even though she knew before he did and didn’t seem the least bit surprised when he came out to her, he always likes to hear that she’s proud of him. It gives him the strength to go out into the world and do things like become a café manager. He’s only a couple of years into his twenties, and he knows there are bigger things to come.

Little by little, the ice around his heart starts to thaw and he begins to make his peace with what happened. He does feel like there’s one thing missing, but he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. It doesn’t matter too much, he tells himself. He has time. The important thing is that he’s figuring it out and finally beginning to move forward.

 

* * *

 

“I really think it would be good for you Ed,” Jim says, rooting around his drawers for the fancy cologne that he knows is in there somewhere.

“Forced social interaction with a collective of inebriated students who have no idea who I am? Yes, that sounds like something that would be extremely conducive for my state of mind.”

Ed is sitting at the head of his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them in a defensive position. Jim knows this is going to be hard work.

“It’s something outside of your comfort zone that will distract you from dwelling on…” Jim almost slips and says Oswald’s name. “Things.” He finishes lamely.

“Just go without me Jim, I have lots of studying to do.”

“Knowing you, you probably spent the entire winter break studying and know more than all of your professors. Come on, just let loose for one night. You never know you might even have fun.”

“Not a possibility.” Ed rests his head on his knees.

Jim looks at the ceiling, exasperated. Time for another tack.

“Okay, then come as a favour to me? We need a designated driver, and you’re the only one of us here who has a car.”

“Can’t you just get Barbara’s parents to lend you their limo?”

“There’s no time for that now, besides I don’t think anyone going to this party is going to want their parents to know who’s hosting it or where it is.” He finally locates the cologne.

“And you really think that’s going to sell this party to me?’

Jim places the cologne on the nightstand and crosses the room to Ed’s bed and perches on the edge of it.

“Ed, I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to be alone all night with your books—I hate thinking that you’re struggling through this by just keeping your head in books. I know you’ve been having nightmares and between the obsessive studying and the nightmares you’re being stretched really thin. Please just come with us tonight, for my peace of mind if nothing else.”

Ed smiles slightly. “Emotional manipulation to appeal to my more sentimental faculties as the _friend_. Nicely played.” He swings his legs round and makes to get up and put some shoes on.

“Um, Ed?” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he looks Ed up and down.

“Yes Jim?”

“You can’t wear that.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, Ozzie? I mean you’re the boss, you could probably just close up and come with us if you wanted.” Ivy is pouting, a last resort weapon. It takes strength but Oswald doesn’t waver.

“I told you, I have that stock to order and a bunch of other things I’ve been putting off to be getting on with.”

Ivy doesn’t need to know that he knows Jim will probably be at this party, hence Oswald definitely not putting in an appearance, and his overall nonexistent social life at Gotham University. It’s all to avoid Jim Gordon.

“And remember,” Oswald says, addressing Victor, ‘make sure she doesn’t drink. Keep an eye on her for me.”

Victor nods seriously. ‘You got it.”

“Oh my god, I’m _nineteen_!’ Ivy exclaims for the hundredth time. “I don’t need babysitters!”

“You do when you look like that.” Oswald says, gesturing with a hand at her outfit and decidedly avoiding looking at the not small amount of cleavage she has on display.

Ivy’s cheeks colour. “ _Fine_. Victor, Nora, let’s go.” She turns around and stomps out of the café.

Victor shrugs at Oswald and Nora murmurs “bye” with a warm smile and a wave as they follow Ivy out.

Oswald watches them pile into Victor’s car and sighs. He can’t help but be worried. He wouldn’t be that bothered if it was a normal back-to-university-after-the-holidays house party. But this isn’t a normal house party. This is a party is being thrown by Jerome Valeska.

 

* * *

 

“I look ridiculous,” Ed laments, looking down at his ensemble as they wait for Barbara to come and let them into her penthouse apartment. He’d let Jim dress him, not literally of course. But Jim chose the pieces and they definitely reflect his style more than Ed’s. He’s wearing a light grey tee with a black bomber jacket, paired with his usual skinny jeans and Chucks. But instead of letting his hair do whatever it wants like he usually does, it’s slicked back, completely out of his face. He’s also wearing contacts which irritate his eyes more than a little. He feels exposed without his glasses or the waves of hair hanging down his forehead to hide behind. He hadn’t realized how much of a safety net they were until now. His hands twitch, they constantly want to fiddle with his glasses or his hair. Unbeknownst to Jim, Ed does have his glasses in the pocket of the jacket. Just in case.

“You look hot,” Jim says.

Ed’s head snaps up. “Really?”

Before Jim can reply, Barbara opens the door. She snakes her hands around Jim’s waist as she leans in and kisses him. It turns into a bit more than a ‘hello’ kiss and Ed awkwardly clears his throat. Barbara breaks the kiss to look at him, seeming confused for a few moments before she realizes, looking him up and down and whistling.

“Wow, you clean up good Nygma.”

Ed tries to stop the blush that comes to his cheeks. “Thanks. I mean—hi Barbara.”

“Well come on in boys, Tabs and I aren’t quite ready yet so help yourselves to drinks. Maybe we’ll give you a little fashion show and you can help us out!” She sashays off into one of the bedrooms in her tiny sparkly dress and Ed tries not to roll his eyes. This is up there with talking to Harvey Bullock on his list of the worst ways to spend an evening.

He perches on the leather sofa in the center of an overly modern open-plan living area. Jim helps himself to a beer from the kitchen. He had had several before they even left campus, he’s already on his way to drunk. That’s probably why he said he thought Ed looked “hot”. Yes, that’s the only logical explanation.

 

* * *

 

It’s getting on for midnight by the time they reach Jerome’s neighbourhood. Ed parks his Mustang a good distance from the house up the street. He doesn’t trust these kids around his beloved car. The second he stops, Barbara and Tabitha jump out; Tabitha taking Barbara’s hand and pulling her down the street. They giggle and totter about precariously in their enormous heels. Jim follows after them resignedly, and Ed follows after Jim.

Jerome’s house is a large piece of turreted eccentricity that looks ridiculous given the white clapboard houses either side of it. There’s music pounding loudly from it as well as the general roar of people shouting, screaming and singing. It sounds loud from the road out front, but walking in is a whole other story. It’s deafening.

It’s also stiflingly hot and crammed with people. All those germs, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Why didn’t he put his mini hand sanitizer bottle in his pocket?

Ed struggles to follow Jim through the crowd, too nervous as he is to brush past people or to shout ‘excuse me!’ at them. Instead, he gropes in front of him for Jim’s jacket, but brushes Jim’s hand as he does so. Jim turns around and smiles as he takes Ed’s hand and slots their fingers together. Ed feels a smile spreading across his face and a warm feeling blooming in his chest, even as he struggles to gulp in air - not that it seems to be doing much, as hot and stifling as it is in here. The physical contact helps quieten the anxiety he’s feeling from being around so many people in an unknown environment.

Finally they come to a small opening by the kegs. Jim grabs a cup and fills it as Ed takes a can of Diet Coke for himself. Even if he wasn’t the designated driver, he wouldn’t risk drinking, especially around Jim, after last time.

They stand there with their drinks as people writhe to the music around them. They smile at each other since it’s too loud to say anything without having to shout in each others’ ear. He hopes Jim will lead them somewhere else, simply so he might take Ed’s hand again. He loves being close to Jim. It makes him feel safe. But he’s not under any illusions as to being able to spend the whole night with Jim – he plays for the Nighthawks so he’s well known to pretty much everyone on the campus. And as if summoned by thought, someone tackles Jim, presumably one of the other members of the team. Jim grins and grapples with the guy good naturedly, not even looking Ed’s way. He knows he’s on his own. He melts away into the crowd.

He decides to try and make his way outside to the back garden for some fresh air. On his way he passes a group passing around a bong, gets hit in the head by a toilet roll being thrown around and almost trips over when he steps on a beer bottle. He pitches forward, only just managing to hold himself up.

When he stands upright, he finds himself face to face with a beautiful blonde girl who’s looking up at him through her lashes. Ed looks over his shoulder, and then back at her. Nope, she’s definitely looking at him. She leans up and says loudly in his ear, “you’re not leaving are you?”

In the corner of his eye, Ed sees a face he recognizes and turns to look properly.

It’s the guy from the café, Oswald’s new employee. He’s sitting in one corner of the couch under the stairs with an arm around the blonde girl, also from before, gently kissing her.

If he’s here, does that mean Oswald is also around somewhere? Ed tries to stave off the panic. The voice in his head says _stop being such a wet blanket and talk to the girl! Forget about Oswald, that’s O-VER. This girl wants us, can’t you see it in her eyes?_

Ed takes a deep breath and leans down, gently winding the girl’s hair behind her ear so he can speak into it.

“I’m going outside, need some air. You want to come with me?”

She smiles a sweet smile and nods.

 

* * *

 

Ed looks around furtively as he sits down on an iron wrought chair at a glass table. Nobody is sitting outside, the majority of people out here are in the pool, and Ed doesn’t want to look at what’s going on there too closely. He puts his can on the table.

He’s struggling for something to say, something less lame than ‘so what’s your name?’ but she saves him the trouble.

“I’m Isabella. You’re Edward.” She brings her chair around closer to him.

Edward swallows nervously.

“I must confess, I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I help out at the university library and I see you there a lot.”

Ed picks up his Coke can and furrows his brows as he investigates it. He should have known better than to help himself to a drink at a party thrown by someone he doesn’t even know. He’s clearly been drugged.

Isabella giggles. “I’m real, Eddie.”

He puts the can down with a loud clang. “Please don’t call me that.” Nobody’s referred to him as that since his beloved grandfather died eleven years ago.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she looks genuinely apologetic.

 _Just take her upstairs_ Other-Ed says.

 _I’m not ready_ Ed says inwardly, picking up the can again and turning it over in his hand.

 _On come_ on _Ed, you need to get over Oswald. He. Doesn’t. Want. You. This beautiful girl does. Take her upstairs, or to the car. MOVE ON!_

Ed crushes the can in his fist. Isabella startles at the suddenness of the action but doesn’t look afraid. If anything she looks excited.

Ed tilts his head to one side in a domineering stance and says, “do you want to go upstairs with me?”

The smile on her face can only be described as sinful. He abruptly stands up and holds out his hand. She stands too and steps into his space, pressing the length of her body against his. Leaning up on her tip toes she whispers into his ear, “yes, Edward. Take me upstairs.”

Ed grits his teeth and jerkily turns around taking her hand and leading her back into the house, his pace so fast it gives Isabella no choice but to run behind him.

Other-Ed is cheering.

 

* * *

 

When Ed reaches the top of the stairs, his confidence starts to waver. He can feel Other-Ed still trying to fire him up to get this done, but his nerves are fully in control now. Is he really about to have sexual intercourse with a girl he just met, at a party thrown by a guy he doesn’t know? Not to mention the hygiene factors to consider. When were the bed sheets last washed? Does Isabella have condoms? He certainly doesn’t. The music continues to pound in his ears, people continue to squeeze past him, and he feels moments away from a panic attack.

He can’t do this.

He’s still in love with Oswald.

And even though he knows Oswald isn’t interested in him that way, he’s not going to betray his own feelings by rushing into something he’s not ready for. Despite what part of him is saying, he knows he will regret this, the same way he regretted his actions when he let Other-Ed take over after Oswald rejected him.

He fights his way to the banister for a piece of comparative space. He takes in some deep breaths as he looks out over the crowd in the main area of the house beneath him for some inspiration of what to say to Isabella. Being on the receiving end of rejection isn’t fun. If anyone knows, it’s Ed.

But as he’s scanning the crowd, he spots some familiar red hair swishing around. It’s Ivy, and she appears to be dancing with someone, though it looks as if they might actually be the only thing holding her up. She’s slumped on his shoulder, not looking like she’s in full possession of her faculties. The guy starts to pull the end of her dress up and Ed starts to panic. He turns around and finds Isabella looking at him, confused.

“I’M SORRY, I HAVE TO GO!” He shouts over the music. And with that Ed takes off downstairs.

It’s a lot less easy to find Ivy at eye level, and he frantically searches the mire of writhing bodies. At last he locates her, pushing through the sea of people and wrenching the guy off Ivy and pulling her towards him. She makes no protest, simply lays her head on his shoulder like she’s fine with being passed around. He glares at the stranger and turns around to try and make his way outside with the entirety of Ivy’s weight to hold up. But he feels a hand grabbing the back of his jacket and jerking him back. He’s spun around and the next thing he knows there’s a fist in his face. Ed reels, the flash of pain is momentarily blinding, but all he can think about is Ivy. He flails around looking for her in case she’s fallen to the ground, unable to support herself. His vision slowly comes back and he sees Ivy in someone else’s arms – Jim’s. The relief that floods Ed is almost enough to make him stagger.

“Here, look after her for a second.” Jim says loudly in his ear. He looks absolutely furious.

With one hand cradling what will undoubtedly become a magnificent bruise on the side of his left eye, he slips his other arm around Ivy to hold her up. She places her arms around Ed and nestles her face in the crook of his neck. Ed is so intoxicated with adrenaline than he doesn’t even mind.

Jim marches past them towards Ivy’s molester and without stopping lands a punch worthy of the ages. It knocks him clean out.

There’s some manic laughter from the stairs and a red-haired guy in a black and white striped t-shirt shouts, “NOW IT’S A PARTY!”

Ed knows without having to be told that it’s Jerome.

Jim steps back and glares at the circle that’s formed around them, before turning towards Ed, putting a hand on his back and gesturing towards the front door. Together, Jim and Ed half-carry Ivy towards the front of the house.

 

* * *

 

The fresh air seems to revive Ivy a little. Ed sits her down on a bench on the porch and she looks at him through heavily lidded eyes. Jim stands beside him, concerned.

“Ed! It’s so nice to see you!” the amount of slurring in her words is worrying, her eyes aren’t even properly focusing on him.“He really misses you, you know.” She leans her head on the back of the seat, seemingly unable to support the weight of her own head. “Ugh everything is spinning.”

Ed tries to ignore the ache in his chest at her words.

Ivy’s leaning back now puts Jim in her line of sight. She narrows her eyes even further. “Who are you?”

“This is Jim,” Ed says. “He’s my roommate.”

She looks back at Ed, then at Jim again. “Why is that name important?” She mutters to herself.

“Ivy, how much have you had tonight? Did you take anything? It’s important. I need to know whether I should take you to hospital,” Ed says.

“Just some cups from the keg, and some shots, I think. No drugs.” Ivy grips her stomach and groans. “Now I understand why Ozzie never lets me drink.”

Ed doesn’t see the flash of panic that passes across Jim’s face.

“Did you come here alone, Ivy?” Ed asks.

“No, I came with Victor and Nora. They’re supposed to be watching me—but it’s not their fault. I just wanted to have some fun. I promised them I was just going to talk to some friends—please don’t tell anyone, Ozzie would be really mad.”

“If you promise to never do anything like this again, Ivy. You were so intoxicated you were almost sexually assaulted.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

Ed shakes his head at the ridiculousness of Ivy apologising for almost being a victim.

“Don’t apologize Ivy, I was worried about _you_. Just make sure you take better care of yourself. I know you’re better than most of the morons at this party. Oswald wouldn’t be friends with you otherwise.”

Ivy smiles weakly. “Thank you.”

“I think I should take Ivy home,” Ed says to Jim.

“All right, I’ll try to find Babs ‘n’ Tabs and find out what’s going on.” Jim casts a worried look at Ivy, seemingly reluctant to leave Ed alone with her.

“Okay, Jim. We’ll wait here.” Jim nods and heads back into the house.

Ivy suddenly scrunches up her eyebrows. “That’s not Jim Gordon is it?”

How does Ivy know who Jim is? He wouldn’t have pegged her for a football fan. “Yeah it is. Why?”

“Oh my _god_ Jim Gordon is your roommate?”

“Yes…do you like the Nighthawks?”

“No! That asshole broke Ozzie’s heart!”

Ed feels like he’s been punched a second time.

‘What? What do you mean, Ivy? What are you saying? Are you saying that—”

But he cuts off because she suddenly leaps up off the bench and stumbles forward towards the shrubbery, promptly throwing up all over the grass. He hurries after her to hold her hair back.

When she eventually finishes retching, she passes out and Ed carries Ivy back up to the bench. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around her before cradling her in his arms. He sits there staring numbly ahead thinking about the implications of what she’d said.

However he spins it, Jim has been both lying to him and holding things back from him. Steadfast reliable Jim, who punches people on his behalf, who let him share his bed when Ed felt scared and alone. Jim, who’d been the first real friend Ed had ever had. Ed holds Ivy tighter to him.

Jim eventually returns, and he’s alone and looks resigned. “They’re staying the night. We’re free to go.”

Ed looks up at Jim and he feels like he’s never seen him before.

“Can you take Ivy to the car? I need to get her address from the people she came with.” He reaches into his pocket for his car keys and hands them to Jim. Jim looks at him, confused at the change in his demeanour, but pockets the keys, before slotting his arms under Ivy’s back and legs to carry her.

Ed watches him carry her down the driveway and turn onto the street. He looks every inch the hero Ed always believed he was.

 

* * *

 

When Ed reaches the Mustang, he finds Jim sitting in the back seat with Ivy laying across his lap.

“Well, the good news is we don’t have to detour or deal with angry parents. She lives in the dorms like us.”

“So what’s the bad news?”

Ed takes the keys from Jim and starts the car. “Victor’s pretty upset at himself. Scared Oswald might fire him for failing to make sure Ivy stayed out of trouble. But you can’t really stop someone who’s bent on going off the rails. The more you try to hinder them, the more they will want to do it. Oswald will see that I think. He’ll probably initially be angry but he’ll put the blame in the right place. But you already know what Oswald is like, don’t you Jim?’

Their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“Ed, I’m sorry—”

“We can’t do this now, Jim. I want to get Ivy safely home.”

Jim nods and turns his head to look out the window.

They drive in silence.

 

* * *

 

After taking Ivy back to her dorm and laying her on one of the beds (having to fish her key out of her purse because her roommate wasn’t there), Ed and Jim walk across campus to their dorm in further stony silence. Jim was still fairly drunk when he left the party but the gravity of the situation is rapidly sobering him up somewhat.

When they reach their room, Ed shutting the door behind them, the atmosphere is tense. Ed sits down on the edge of his bed and Jim moves to sit beside him, thinking this will be easier if he can touch Ed. But Ed holds up a hand and shakes his head. Jim retreats to his own bed and sits facing Ed.

Ed simply looks at Jim. The look of disbelief on his face makes Jim feel wretched.

“So, you and Oswald…” Ed can’t seem to say the words.

Jim nods, not really wanting to go through this again. But now that Ed knows the basic facts, he should know the rest. Jim needs to be completely honest with Ed. He deserves that.

‘We were together. In high school.”

Ed nods at the carpet.

“My parents caught us … together. I hadn’t come out to them because I knew they wouldn’t be okay with it. It was stupid of me to risk bringing Oswald back to my house. They threw him out. They threatened to disown me if I didn’t stop seeing him. So I stopped seeing him. I completely ignored him. And that’s why he hates me, and why he doesn’t do relationships. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

Ed’s head snaps up.

“And how long did you know it was Oswald I was going to see?”

Jim realizes he’s given himself away. “Ever since you came home in the purple shirt, carrying the umbrella.”

That was over a month ago now. Jim watches with dismay as Ed drops his face into his hands, but promptly jerks back at the pain from the side of his face where he was punched. Jim stands up.

“Here Ed, let me go and get you some ice for that,” Jim says, expecting a backlash.

Instead, Ed says in a quivering voice, “okay.”

With the bruise on his face and the tears in his eyes, Ed looks utterly defeated. Jim wants to hold Ed in his arms, the way he does when they’re waiting for Other-Ed to give up the ghost. But given that Jim is the cause of this, he thinks it would probably be unwelcome. He feels powerless. He hadn’t realized how much of his ability to make Ed feel better depended on touch.

Ice pack momentarily forgotten, Jim kneels down in front of Ed.

“The only reason I never told you what happened was that I didn’t think it was my story to tell. Oswald made me promise never to speak of what happened again, and I didn’t think it was fair for me to tell you things about his past that he might not have been ready for you to know.”

“But you’re my _best friend_ Jim. You watched me go off to the café thinking I had a chance and make an idiot of myself so many times. You watched me go that last day, knowing he was likely going to say no. Knowing I was going to get hurt...and you just stood by and let it happen.”

“I wanted to tell you Ed, I really did. But I did think there was a chance he would change his mind. If anyone could, it would be you. I really believe that.” Jim shuffles closer to Ed, placing himself between Ed’s legs. When Ed doesn’t move, he daringly wraps his arms around Ed and hugs him tightly. To his surprise, Ed clings to him, hands fisting in his t-shirt, breath shaky.

Jim hates talking about feelings. He stopped being comfortable with that right around the time his parents rejected his identity. But he’s going to make a last ditch attempt to save his friendship with Ed. It’s become one of the most important things in his life. Unlike his parents, Ed accepts him as he is, bisexuality and everything else. Ed’s own bisexuality means they understand each other on a very deep level. But Jim knows even if they weren’t the same, Ed would still be the best friend a person could ask for.

“I never wanted to hurt you Ed. You have to understand that. I am still carrying guilt from what happened with Oswald and I don’t want to dishonor the promises I made to him. But how was I meant to do that without betraying you? Once I found out who it was that you were falling for, I agonized about whether to tell you or not. And by that time I think it was too late to stop you from getting hurt anyway. I am _so_ sorry all of this has happened Ed. But you have to know how much you mean to me.” Jim will kick his still-a-bit-drunk self later for admitting what he says next. There is such a thing as too much honesty. “Hell I had a crush on you when we first met. Still do a little bit.” He smiles at Ed, who looks down at him, eyes half full with unshed tears. “I really want to fix this, Ed. _Please_ forgive me.”

Ed takes a shaky breath and leans down, pressing their foreheads together. That’s something Jim’s always thought of as their thing. Like an Eskimo kiss. Except this one feels like goodbye. Ed closes his eyes, so Jim does too. They stay like that for a while, their breathing the only sound in the room.

“Could I have that ice pack now please?” Ed eventually says in a small voice.

Jim pulls back and notices the streaks of tears down Ed’s cheeks. It makes his heart lurch painfully. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

When Jim returns from the dorm kitchen, he’s not entirely surprised to find that Ed is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone hug me? And the boys. Everyone involved in this fic needs a hug.


	9. Chapter 9

The last person Jim expects to see waiting for him on the bleachers after football practice is the drunk redhead from Jerome’s party two nights ago. After changing back into his normal clothes, he wearily approaches her and sits down beside her.

“Nice jacket.” He says.

Ivy is very dressed down compared to the last time he saw her. She’s one of those people, Jim thinks, that looks effortlessly elegant whatever they wear. Which today is simple light blue skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, with his bomber jacket over the top. The one he lent to Ed, who in turn obviously lent it to Ivy. With everything that happened that night, he’d completely forgotten about it.

“Thanks. It’s yours, right? It doesn’t seem like it’s Ed’s style.” She begins to take it off but Jim holds up a hand.

“Keep it, it suits you.”

Ivy turns to look at him, her expression confused behind her wayfarers. “Really? I do like it a lot.”

Jim smiles his half smile at her. “It’s yours.”

She instantly brightens. “Thanks! Oh and hey, you have to take these though. I don’t know how to reach Ed, so I thought you could give these to him.”

She produces Ed’s glasses from the pocket of the jacket and holds them out to him. He takes them from her, holding them by the stems, looking at the distinctive frames. They are so much a part of the Ed he knows, it’s like he’s holding a piece of him in his hand.

“Sure. If he ever comes back.”

Ivy looks out at the field. “I’m sorry. I didn’t remember anything that happened that night until it started coming back in bits and pieces. If I’d been sober I never would have said what I did.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I said you broke Oswald’s heart.”

Jim’s grip on the glasses tightens. “I hate that he had to find out like that. This whole thing is a mess. Of all the guys he could have fallen for, of course it would be Oswald. Of course he ended up rooming with the guy that’s the ex of his first love. I swear this sort of shit only happens in Gotham.”

Ivy purses her lips. “So Ed just took off?”

“Yeah. I told him everything and I thought maybe we could try to fix the situation together. But he bolted while I was out of the room. He’s had to deal with a lot in a short space of time, on top of the fact he’s mentally ill. I don’t blame him for freaking out.”

Ivy turns to him suddenly. “Wait, Ed has a mental illness?”

Jim inwardly kicks himself. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Please keep it to yourself.”

“But what sort of illness is it?”

Jim sighs, now he’s told her so much, he might as well tell her the rest. “Something a bit like schizophrenia. He hallucinates another version of himself. But mostly just hears him as a voice in his head. We think the severity of the episode is directly related to how much stress he’s under. The night Oswald rejected him, his other self was able to fully take over. That doesn’t happen very often though. Mostly it’s just voices and nightmares.”

“Shouldn’t he be in like, therapy or something? And on some medication?”

“He refuses to. He’s afraid the information will somehow get back to his parents. They keep pretty close tabs on him, even though they’ve got no time for him when they are actually in town. He even legally changed his name to make it harder for them to track him.”

Ivy’s silent for a while before eventually saying, “he seems so normal. You would never know he had all that going on.”

Jim smiles sadly. “That’s Ed. He functions on a higher operating level than the rest of us, except maybe Oswald, but I think the one thing he wants the most is to just be normal. Do the things students do. Have friends. Date. Be accepted.”

Ivy eyes him curiously. “You’re not the asshole I thought you would be.”

Jim chuckles despite himself. “Thanks.”

Ivy stands up, running her hand through her hair and moving past him to get to the steps. Halfway down she looks back up at him and asks, “hey, do hangovers usually last more than a day?”

Jim laughs and shakes his head.

He knows Ivy will probably go straight to Oswald and relay everything he’s told her. Oswald does inspire loyalty in people. But keeping secrets thus far has not done Jim, or any of the people around him, any good.

And if Ed doesn’t come back, it won’t matter anyway.

 

* * *

 

Things are tense in the café when Ivy arrives. Victor is keeping his head down and cleaning tables. Oswald is leaning against the counter trying to calm himself down. When he catches sight of Ivy, he sighs exaggeratedly.

“Well thank god you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere or face down in some rich kid’s pool.”

Ivy waltzes straight up to him and leans down to hug him and rest her head on his shoulder. She stays there until Oswald’s stubborn resistance fails and he hugs her back. After a little while she pulls away, leaving a hand on his shoulder saying, “don’t be mad at Victor. I would have found a way to drink even if you had been the one keeping an eye on me.”

Oswald eyes the sunglasses which she still hasn’t taken off. “And do you feel it was worth it?”

Ivy grimaces. “Well I certainly learned my lesson. Ozzie, do you think we could go and talk in your office? I have some stuff to tell you that’s probably going to make you like a lot more mad.”

Oswald narrows his eyes curiously at her. “Ivy, what did you do?”

Ivy sighs. There’s a faster way to get this done. “I saw Ed Nygma at the party.”

Oswald’s heart starts thumping furiously. “Victor, I trust you can keep an eye on the café, while I talk to Ivy? And remember, unlike you, I am _always_ watching.”

“Yes boss. Sorry boss,” Victor says, looking thoroughly regretful.

Oswald nods towards his office and Ivy follows him. There’s only one chair in the office which he gestures for Ivy to sit on. He perches on the edge of the table beside her.

“Oh boy, try and promise me that you won’t get super mad,” Ivy finally takes off her sunglasses. “So I was really really drunk and dancing with this guy and I guess he was a creep. I don’t really remember it much about what happened before I got outside, I was so out of it. I didn’t know it at the time but Ed pulled me away and he and his friend carried me outside. I guess he must have been punched for his trouble because he had an impressive shiner next to his eye.”

Oswald’s heart is in his throat. Emotions that he’s been trying to keep a lid on are threatening to escape and run riot in his chest. The thought of Ed, thoroughly out of his depth, protecting Ivy…

“But the thing I’m still trying to wrap my head around is who his friend was. He was at the party with Jim. Your Jim.”

Oswald reels like he’s been slapped.“You mean _with_ with?”

“Oh no!” Ivy squeaks. “They’re, get this, they’re _roommates_.”

Oswald needs to lie down.

What the hell? How is this—how is this even possible?” Oswald splutters.

“I know, right? But they both looked after me. And um, Oswald, I may have told Ed that you and Jim were a thing.”

“You did _what_?” His blood pressure is going through the roof.

“When I realised who he was … I said he was the asshole that broke your heart.” Ivy actually cowers. “I’m so sorry Oswald, I would never have said anything if I’d been sober.”

Oswald takes deep breaths. So Ed knows. He wonders if it will make any kind of difference. Maybe Ed will eventually come back, realising that was what Oswald wanted to tell him…

But now everything is so much more complex because Jim is Ed’s friend. He wonders if their friendship will survive having Jim and Oswald’s relationship between them.

“And okay, this is probably going to make you burst a vein, but—”

Oswald’s head snaps down to look at her again. “There’s _more_?” What else can possibly have happened?

“I went to see Jim today.”

Oswald’s lips quiver with barely suppressed rage. Ivy throws up her arms in a placating gesture.

“I went to give him back this jacket, and Ed’s glasses that were in the pocket. How nice is it that he let me keep his jacket? I mean, I thought he was gonna be this complete douche—’

“Get to the _point_ , Ivy.’ Oswald hisses.

“Basically they had a big fight and Ed took off. Jim seems really sad about it.”

Oswald closes his eyes. Just weeks ago, Oswald would have automatically thought _good_. He’s surprised to find that he feels guilty for his role in all this. If Oswald hadn’t made Jim swear he wouldn’t tell anyone what passed between them, maybe he would have told Ed himself earlier in their friendship. Maybe Ed would have been more ready to listen that night by the river if he knew about his and Jim’s history.

His overriding emotion, however, is worry for Ed. People do drastic things when they’re upset. He hopes that, wherever Ed is, he’s safe and unhurt.

Looking down at Ivy, who’s watching him anxiously, he has an idea.

“Well, this is all a bit overwhelming,” he says. “And even though the way this has happened is less than desirable, it is a bit of a relief that it’s all out in the open.”

Ivy deflates and sags in the chair, clearly relieved that he’s not going to lash out at her.

“But I _am_ still disappointed in the actions that led to you to betray my trust like that.”

Ivy looks down, shame colouring her cheeks.

“There is, however, a way you can make it up to me.”

She looks up again, her eagerness to comply clear in her expression. “What is it, Ozzie? I’ll do anything!”

“You will do some recon and find out from Jim whether or not Ed is okay. I need to know, Ivy.”

“Okay! I can do that!’ she moves to get up and Oswald realises she’s going to go and find Jim right now.

“Give it a few days Ivy,” Oswald warns. “Ed might need some space before he reaches out to anyone.”

“Okay.” Ivy fidgets in her seat. “Well, I should probably go home, take some pain killers and try to get through some of my reading. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She heads to the office door and opens it. She turns back as Oswald slips into her vacated seat with a sigh.

“I really am sorry for everything. I’m sure Ed is okay. Probably just needs some time to process. Like you.”

Oswald nods, numbly. Ivy leaves.

There’s not much Oswald can do now but wait.

 

* * *

 

On Friday night, Ed goes home for only the second time in the two years since he’d left. The last time he’d been back there was to find the book for Oswald. Since meeting Jim, he’d stopped thinking of home as the big mansion out by the sea where he grew up. Home was in his cozy little dorm room with Jim. Not this big cold, draughty house with unpleasant reminders of a lonely childhood in every room and corner.

But Ed has nowhere else to go.

When he arrives, the first thing he does is take out the godawful contact lenses (after he’s found his spare pair of glasses – these ones have rounded frames and he doesn’t like them as much). That evening, he’s able to distract himself, telling the housekeeper he’ll be back for a while but that he doesn’t need her for anything and will look after all the spaces he uses himself. In short, he doesn’t want to see her. Which is never usually hard. Because Polina has always treated him the same way as his parents – like he’s invisible.

He tells her to leave him alone in the kitchen, and he notices the new additions to her pin board. This is the only way Ed ever finds out where his parents are and what they’re doing – the postcards they send to Polina. The two newest postcards are from Lake Tahoe and Aspen. His parents love the ski season and they’re always away hopping between resorts for the duration. They won’t be back until the spring, and even then they’ll probably find somewhere else to go; maybe another jaunt in Europe. They hate being at the house; they can’t stand to be anywhere near Ed.

Ed admires the pictures, beautiful mountain panoramas, quaint villages, the California beaches from their road trip up the coast last summer. Ed’s often thought about taking the Mustang on a cross country road trip, except he’s too scared to do it by himself. If Oswald had felt the same way about him, he probably would have suggested it at some point. A whole trip of singing along to his tapes or the radio, pulling over sometimes to take a nap, sharing food at diners along the way, steamy nights at motels (or nice hotels, since the cleanliness there would give him far less anxiety – if Oswald would let him pay that is) … Ed can’t think of anything better.

But those are dreams long since dead. Here he is, alone again.

Saturday is spent mostly cocooning in his bed, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his best friend and the man he’d fallen in love with were once together. Like _that_. They were probably each other’s firsts. Ed had never been naïve enough to think Oswald was a virgin like him, but no one could have ever predicted this. He knows it’s not like Jim ever had any spiteful intentions or could ever have known he would meet Ed or that Ed would fall for Oswald, but he _hates_ that Jim had Oswald first. Not that Ed ever will ‘have’ Oswald, but it’s painful to think that the guy who has everything – popularity, skill at sports… also had _his_ Oswald.

Other-Ed is silent because Ed is doing all the work for him. He doesn’t need to tell him how pathetic he is, he’s doing a very good job of that himself. At least he has that one small mercy, he can curl up and be miserable in peace.

He tortures himself further with thoughts of how he humiliated himself, trying to be brave by writing a riddle that Oswald never saw, hugging him because Jim said physical contact was a good indicator of the way a person feels. Ed had taken Jim’s word as gospel, and he laughs darkly at the fact that Jim probably used the same tactics on Oswald himself. Then he pulls the covers over his head and cries into the darkness, utterly overwhelmed by humiliation and loneliness.

On Sunday hunger forces him out of bed. He wanders downstairs in his plaid pyjamas. He focuses on preparing the food and tries not to think. He makes himself a coffee and drinks it while he potters around, the scalding liquid slowly pouring life back into him. The smells and sounds are comforting in the oppressive silence of the house. He makes himself pancakes and completely drenches them in maple syrup. He thinks about eating them at the island in the the kitchen but it’s too big a space and it’s too lonely. He retreats to his room and sits cross legged on the bed, his breakfast in front of him. He turns on the TV, something he hasn’t done in a long time. The weather report is currently on; apparently a big freeze is heading for Gotham, fifteen inches of snow. _Most_ unusual.

As he’s finishing his pancakes, his phone vibrates on the nightstand. There’s only one person it can be. He swallows his last mouthful and hesitates before picking up the phone. What he really needs is space, engaging with anyone involved in this situation now is likely to make things worse.

He flips open the phone and reads the text.

 _I know u prob don’t wanna hear from me_  
_but pls just let me know ur OK and nothing_  
_bad has happened 2 u cos of him or anything else_

Ed needs more coffee.

He spends the rest of the day trying to distract himself with TV and books, whilst mulling over what to say to Jim. _If_ he should say anything.

It’s close to midnight when it finally comes to him. He responds in a way that only Ed can.

_I can fly but I have no wings. What am I?_

Time.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Jim!”

Ivy appears in front of him in a blur of red and green on his way out of class. He blinks.

“Hi Ivy,” he says, bewildered. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks! Hey um, how was your class?”

Okay, this is really weird.

“Well I didn’t fall asleep this time so I guess it was pretty good?”

Ivy’s fake laugh is painful. This girl doesn’t have a future in acting. She’s even bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet.

“Are you okay Ivy? Is there something I can do for you?”

“Well I was thinking about what you said a few days ago, and I was wondering if you’d heard anything from Ed?”

And suddenly it all becomes clear.

“Oswald sent you to find out if Ed is all right didn’t he?”

“No! I was worried myself, I wanted to know—”

Jim takes pity on Ivy. Oswald can be volatile at the best of times. “It’s okay Ivy. I won’t tell anyone. In future if you want to know something, you can just come out with it.”

Ivy sighs with relief. “OK so, have you heard anything from him? Oswald’s really on edge and pretty impossible to be around right now. If you’ve got some good news he might stop snapping at me and Victor.”

Jim smirks despite himself. Be more _obvious_ Oswald.

“Yeah, I’ve heard from him. Just a short text that was a riddle telling me he needs time. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m not gonna bother him again.”

“Okay well, thank you for telling me.”

He’s about to head to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends when Ivy touches his arm.

“Do you think there’s a chance they’ll ever work things out?’ She seems almost scared to be asking the question.

Jim tries to smile encouragingly. “There’s always a chance. If he moves back to campus I’m definitely going to give him a nudge in the right direction.”

Ivy’s face lights up. “If I can do anything to help, let me know.”

“I will. I’ve really gotta go meet my friends now. I’ll see you around, Ivy.”

As Jim heads down the hallway and weaves his way through the throngs of students he feels lighter than he has in weeks.

 

* * *

 

Oswald is biting his nails nervously as he waits for Ivy to return from cornering Jim after class. It’s just him in the café today and business is steady, mostly small groups meeting up again after the winter break.

He’s just handing someone their change when Ivy enters the café, her long fiery locks bouncing around her shoulders. He hobbles over to the lift gate on the left hand side of the counter and she meets him there.

“Well?” He asks, with barely contained irritation.

“He’s okay.”

Oswald grips the counter, closing his eyes and letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Did he say where he went?”

“No, Jim said Ed just sent him a riddle asking for time. Who texts someone a riddle? Well, I suppose he _is_ a few screws loose.”

“And _what_ do you mean by _that_ , Ivy?”

Despite being not a little taller than Oswald, she visibly cowers. “I was going to tell you this the other day but I figured you had enough to process already.”

Oswald feels like he’s going to burst a vein in his effort to keep himself from shouting. “Tell me _what_?”

“Ed has mental problems.” She waves her finger in circles by her head to indicate that Ed is crazy.

 _“Don’t do that_.” Oswald says fiercely and Ivy immediately drops her hand. _“_ What kind?”

“Jim said he hallucinates and hears voices.”

At that moment someone comes to the counter and he goes to serve them, operating on autopilot. When they leave he hobbles back over to the gate and leans his weight on it, sighing. Ivy watches him warily.

“How on earth did he hide all that?” Oswald muses.

“That’s what I said. He seems so normal.”

“He _is_ normal Ivy. It’s like you said, everyone’s fighting their own battle.”

Ivy bites her lip and looks down, suitably chastised. After an awkward silence she says, “okay well, I have another class in half hour so I’ll see you tomorrow, Ozzie. Try not to worry too much okay?”

Oswald nods distractedly and she leaves.

How did Oswald not _know_? Surely something like that would have manifested into something Oswald could see. And yet.

He remembers the night that Ed fell asleep at the table. How he was talking in his sleep, and how his whole demeanour changed when he woke up. Was that part of it? Did his voices come to him in his sleep – take advantage of his unconsciousness?

Oswald is seized with a fierce urge to protect Ed, a feeling frustrated by the fact he realises he can’t protect Ed from himself.

He looks at the entrance to the café, wishing Ed was stumbling in through the door, struggling under the weight of all his books.

Ed _has_ to come back.

 

* * *

 

Ed stays at home for the whole of February. He spends the first two weeks picking apart everything that he knows about Jim and Oswald. Towards the end of them he begins to understand the sort of trauma Oswald must have gone through to end up shutting everyone out the way he has. Ed can’t imagine having that as a first experience of love. His own rejection was difficult, but to share something so intimate with someone and then be ignored must have been unbearable. He comes to be sympathetic for Jim too, his sexuality never having been accepted by his parents, never having been able to achieve Oswald’s forgiveness.

He wonders about that night by the river and turns over all of Oswald’s words in his head. He had tried to tell Ed something as an explanation for why he was saying no. Did that mean it was his _only_ reason for saying no? Were it not for his repressed trauma, would he have been willing to give Ed a chance?

He slowly realises that neither Jim nor Oswald set out to hurt him, he just got caught in the crossfire of a situation that should have been resolved long ago. Piece by piece, Ed devises a plan of how to go forward. He thinks of it as a puzzle, problems and solutions are his forte.

It’s time to go. He’s tired of the big draughty house, of catching Polina watching him through cracks in doorframes and around the corners. The commute to the university from his house is long and perilous with the huge amount of snowfall they got during and after the storm. The voice in his head is starting to get restless – his grace period is over.

And more than anything right now, he misses his best friend.

He leaves a brief note for Polina, though he suspects she’s watching him leave anyway. He throws his backpack into the passenger seat of the Mustang (mostly full of food products stolen from the kitchen that Polina restocked shortly after he arrived) and starts the car.

As he pulls out of their long driveway and onto the Gotham highway, he smiles for the first time in weeks.

 

* * *

 

It’s late evening and Jim is chewing the end of his pen in frustration as he tries to make sense of his lecture notes. For the hundredth time, he contemplates changing his major. He’s about to reach for his laptop to google today’s lecture topic so he has at least a small idea of what’s going on, when he hears a quiet knock on the door. Two sets of two raps in quick succession. That’s the knock Ed devised to let Jim know it’s him so he can tell Ed if it’s safe for him to come in or not, having gotten sick of walking in on Jim and Barbara having sex so many times.

Jim throws all his papers and books off his lap in his haste to jump up, yelling a bit too loudly, “come in!”

The door slowly opens and in steps Ed, snow in his hair and on the shoulders of another one of his ridiculous coats, this one black with dark green and purple tartan.

Ed drops his rucksack on the floor by his bed and closes the door behind him. Jim scratches the back of his neck nervously, unsure whether it’s okay to move towards Ed or even speak to him. It’s hard because he’s itching to hug Ed; he’s just missed him so much. But Ed asked for space, so he will take his cues from him.

Ed looks up at Jim and meets his eyes, smiling.

“Hey Jim,” Ed says, voice croaky like he hasn’t used it in a while.

Fuck cues.

Jim crosses the distance between them in two short strides, Ed’s smile growing as he approaches. Jim throws his arms around Ed and squeezes him tightly, smiling into his shoulder. He’s relieved when Ed hugs him back just as tight.

Eventually Jim steps back and finds that he can’t stop smiling. Ed just stands there smiling back like the big dork he is. Jim needs to say something before this turns into that awful British Christmas movie his family made him watch over the Holidays.

“You bastard, I thought I was going to have to try and struggle through this midterm paper by myself.”

Ed lets out an amused exhale as he takes off his gloves.“You want some help, Jim?”

“Nah, screw that. It’ll still make no sense tomorrow. You wanna play X-Box?”

Ed’s face lights up and he nods enthusiastically. He hurriedly hangs up his coat, which is damp from snowfall, by the radiator.

“Okay, I’ll get us some snacks,” Jim says. He makes to head out the door and down the hallway to the kitchen, but he pauses in the doorway. Ed pre-empts him.

“I’m not gonna go anywhere Jim,” Ed says, bemused. “But for your peace of mind, I’ll come with you.”

“Asshole,” Jim mutters fondly as Ed follows him out the door.

*

Ed and Jim annihilate monsters and blow up buildings until almost three in the morning. Jim puts the controllers back by the console and switches everything off. He climbs back on his bed, leaning against the wall beside Ed.

“So what made you decide to come back?’ Jim ventures, a little scared of broaching the topic that initially caused Ed to leave.

Ed doesn’t even hesitate. “I knew you would fail all of your classes without me.”

Jim laughs as he nods in agreement.

Ed’s smile slowly fades, a more serious expression taking its place. “I realised that nobody hurt me on purpose and that everything was circumstantial. I just needed time to work through things in my head and get used to the idea that you two have…history.”

“I really am sorry for everything, Ed,” Jim says, and he means it.

“I know. And I forgive you, if there’s anything to forgive.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few moments.

“Hey Ed, can I ask you something?”

Ed nods.

“How did you and Oswald meet? You never told me anything until I caught you sneaking out at stupid o’clock, and even then I assumed you were meeting someone at the cafe rather than going to see someone who worked there.”

To Jim’s relief, Ed smiles, the way one does when recalling a fond memory.

“I didn’t see him until the beginning of the fall semester last year, when I had different buildings for my classes. One of the classes took me past the cafe, and I saw him in there and I was attracted to him instantly. I started going that way to all my classes despite it being out of my way for most of them. I spent three months or so trying to pluck up the courage to go in and talk to him and see if he was as interesting on the inside as he is on the out.”

Jim is can imagine Ed lingering outside the windows of the café, feeling flustered over this new attraction. It’s a sweet image. He waits patiently for Ed to continue.

“And of course the twenty-four hour opening in December provided the perfect opportunity. I pretended to be looking for somewhere quiet to study, and I kept returning there under that charade. I got very little work done. I spent most of the time pretending to study while sneaking looks at him, wishing he would come over and talk to me. _Eventually_ after I brought him a book from home that would help his studies, we started talking and having lengthy conversations. The more I got to know him and appreciate the level of his intellect, the more certain I was that I loved him. Everything I read about it, the physical and mental symptoms – accelerated heart rate, sweaty palms, inability to concentrate on anything else – I had them all.”

Jim’s sure if he was a girl he would probably be crying.

“Please tell me you didn’t google ‘how do I know if I’m in love?’”

Ed snorts. “Not quite. I read that immense pressure on the heart is either cardiac arrest or love, and considering that I’m a healthy twenty year old it seemed more likely that I was in love rather than about to suffer an untimely death.”

Jim smiles to himself. He finds Ed’s trying to make sense of his feelings with science incredibly endearing.

Ed fidgets slightly. “Can I ask you something?”

Jim thinks he’s more than earned it. He nods.

“Were you in love with Oswald too?”

Jim chooses his next words very carefully. “I never got the chance.’ Ed is watching him closely. “We were only together a few weeks. I told him I loved him, that last night. He never said it to me. I don’t know if it’s because he never got the chance because that was one of the last times we spoke, or if it just wasn’t the same for him. But I wasn’t _in love_ with him. It was high school. We were still figuring out who we were. He meant a lot to me. He still does. But not in a ‘great love’ kind of way. More like a ‘he helped me discover who I am’ kind of way. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”

Ed nods thoughtfully. He takes a sip of his soda and says, tentatively, “I’m sorry your parents did that to you. To both of you.”

“Me too.” Jim still has a really strained relationship with his parents. It’s an unspoken agreement that they don’t talk about his dating life, ever since he told them he was bisexual and didn’t intend to stop dating guys. That was a fight for the ages. There was so much shouting that night that the neighbours complained. And Jim’s parents’ house is detached. As soon as he’s got his degree and he can support himself he will disconnect from them completely.

Silence descends between them again, and Jim watches Ed out of the corner of his eye. He looks a little melancholy. Realising he knows what to do, Jim turns to face Ed slightly.

“You know, I heard the café is open twenty-four hours again, just in case there was someone you wanted to see.”

What Ed doesn’t need to know is that Jim’s been in cahoots with Ivy about how to get Ed and Oswald together over the last few weeks. Jim knows for a fact that Oswald is working tonight. Just like he knows that despite being told about the one text Jim got from Ed, Oswald never stopped worrying about him. He wonders if Oswald has realised the depths of his feelings yet. He hasn’t seen Oswald properly in a long time, hasn’t had the opportunity to observe him, but from everything he’s heard from Ivy, it seems obvious that he feels the same way about Ed.

He doesn’t know for sure though, and he’s not going to risk Ed’s feelings again by encouraging him with the information about Oswald’s behaviour that he’s gleaned from Ivy. He suspects Oswald loves Ed, but he’s not going to him tell that. Oswald needs to realise it and tell Ed himself.

And just because Oswald has feelings for Ed, doesn’t mean he’s changed his mind about never dating.

Ed looks suddenly overcome with nerves. “Do you think he would want to see me?”

Jim figures he can give Ed the facts. “He sent Ivy to find out you were okay after he found out from her that you took off. She said he’s been worried about you.”

Ed furrows his brows. “So are you friends with Ivy now?”

“Sort of, I guess. She’s more Oswald’s messenger. Though the first time she came to see me was after football practise a couple of days after you left. It was to give me back my jacket and pass on your glasses. Which are on your nightstand by the way.”

Ed seems to accept this explanation. “He’s been worried about me?”

“Yeah. I think he cares about you, Ed.”

Ed starts picking at the lint on the blanket as a hopeful smile blooms on his face. It warms Jim’s heart.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Ed flashes him a huge grin as he suddenly untangles his crossed legs and jumps off the bed. He puts his tartan coat and purple gloves on again, hunting around for his green Chucks. The last thing he does is trade in his rounded frames for the glasses on the nightstand. Once he puts those on he looks so much more like _Ed_.

He’s about to go when Jim says, “aren’t you forgetting something? You’re not meant to know he’s been worrying about you. It’d seem a little odd if you just turned up without a reason to be there.”

Ed looks confused for a moment before it clicks.“Study materials. Right.” He spends a further five minutes locating all the necessary items to continue his ‘charade.’ He puts them all into his satchel and slings it over his shoulder. He spritzes a tiny bit of cologne on for good measure. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and turns to look at Jim, seriousness in his expression.

“Thank you.”

Jim smiles and nods his head in acknowledgement. Ed grins excitedly before disappearing out the door in a flurry of green and purple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for that cliffhanger! XD


	10. Chapter 10

It’s biting cold outside as Ed heads along the icy campus paths towards the café. The gusto with which he left the room has faded into nervous uncertainty. His feelings remain unchanged. Despite all the time that has passed since that night by the river, and all the time that’s passed since Ed last saw him that evening on the way back from the library, Oswald remains a constant feature in his thoughts. It’s going to be hard downgrading his hopes, but eventually, his feelings have to fade, don’t they? He would rather have Oswald in his life than not. Until he moves past his love for Oswald, he will contain his feelings. It’s a worthy sacrifice for his friendship.

The problem is, Ed knows he’s lying to himself. He can’t imagine a day when he can look at Oswald and feel nothing but a friendly kinship towards him. Part of him is always going to hope that Oswald will come to love him too.

Ed loses his footing and skids several feet across the ice. _Concentrate, Ed. You can’t fight for Oswald’s friendship if you die from head trauma._ The paths are almost completely iced over and the grass is several inches deep in snow. He proceeds with more care, thankful that his long limbs enable him to step over some of the worst patches.

He eventually makes it to the café without falling over, extending a considerable effort not to crash into the glass door.

He straightens up and dusts himself off. It’s still snowing heavily, the ‘big freeze’ has been going on for over a month now. It’s so unpleasant being outside that Ed almost regrets leaving the family home and the lovely coal fire he has in his bedroom there.

Almost.

He looks in through the door and feels his heart flutter as he lays eyes on Oswald for the first time in months. He’s perched on a stool and has one elbow leaning on the counter, paperback book in hand. The other is wrapped around a steaming mug. It looks like he’s wearing a sweater over his black uniform button-up, and a large purple scarf. Something is different about Oswald’s hair too, though he can’t tell what it is from this distance. It would be the picture of cosiness, if Oswald wasn’t alone in a big empty brightly lit café. The situation makes him look very small.

Ed hesitates. Even though he has a plan, he’s still nervous. There’s a chance he might be rejected again, even though this time he’s not asking for anywhere near as much. He knows the odds are stacked more in his favour this time from what Jim’s told him, and from what he himself knows about Oswald. But there’s always a chance. No plan is fool proof. Peoples actions are foreseeable to an extent but when it comes to social intercourse they’re far more unpredictable.

Ed’s teeth start to chatter as he stands there dithering in the cold; it can’t be above fifteen degrees. Being outside in these temperatures is painful. He takes one further moment to collect his thoughts before he finally pushes open the door.

He cringes at the sound his Chucks make on the linoleum floor. They squeak as the dampness comes into contact with it. But Oswald doesn’t look up.

As he gets closer he can see what he couldn’t outside, and that’s the bright purple streak in Oswald’s hair. It puts Ed in mind of a bird with an odd feather. An exquisite, rare bird.

When Ed reaches the counter, he stands there silently, wondering how on earth Oswald can possibly be so absorbed in his book that he didn’t hear the racket he just made.

But then Oswald holds up a finger, not looking away from the book, and says, “just give me one second, I’ve only got one paragraph left in this chapter.”

Ed smiles at the sound of Oswald’s voice. “That’s okay. I can wait.”

 

* * *

 

At the sound of that voice, Oswald’s head snaps up, mouth falling open. His first thought is that he’s fallen asleep on the counter, and he reaches out to touch Ed’s arm to check he’s real. He withdraws before his hand can make contact though, realising the absurdity of the notion.

Ed is just standing there smiling at him, just like he used to, and Oswald thinks his heart might burst.

 _He came back_.

Ed’s smile starts to falter, and his expression shifts into one of concern. “Are you all right, Oswald?”

Oswald realises he’s just been standing there gawking at Ed for the last few minutes. He promptly shuts his mouth.

“Yes, I’m fine!” He says, fiddling with the scuffed corner of his book. “I’m just _so_ happy to see you!”

“I’m happy to see you too,” Ed says quietly, shyly.

Oswald notes that Ed’s hair is wet from snow that’s melted in it. It is horribly cold outside and Oswald wonders what could have possibly induced Ed to come out at this hour to study. He remembers the reason Ed first came to the café last year and says before he can stop himself, “roommate copulating again?”

He closes his eyes and wishes he’d never said anything, belatedly remembering who Ed’s roommate is. Jim is the elephant in the room and the shift in atmosphere is palpable. They stare at each other, knowing the other knows everything.

Ed clears his throat. “No, I imagine Jim is asleep by now.”

Despite the knowledge that Ed is now aware of his history, he wasn’t quite ready to hear him say Jim’s name. It’s a reminder that no matter what Oswald does, Ed and Jim are entwined. He decides to slap on his salesman persona to cover the conflict of emotions inside.

“Well you must be freezing, can I get you a drink to warm you up? Hey, you know what you should try, technically we’re not doing these anymore because they were for the holidays, but I still have some of the syrup left over, that is, if you would like one. Inspired by the black forest gateau my mom makes. Black forest hot chocolate.”

“Oh okay, um, sure.” Ed says. Oswald avoids his eyes as he starts preparing it.

“Oswald,’ Ed says, and Oswald spares him a glance. He looks so terribly earnest he can’t help but give Ed his attention.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened between us. I’m sorry I misread the situation—”  
  
Oswald starts to interject but Ed holds up a hand.

“Please let me finish. I have to tell you that the conversations we had, and that afternoon we spent together, they were really special to me. I’ve never been able to find anyone who I can converse with on an equal intellectual level, until I met you. I really don’t want to lose that. What I’m trying to say is, I hope that we can be friends.”

Oswald’s heart constricts and he doesn’t understand why. “Friends?”

“Yes. If you’re willing.’ He looks completely sincere.

Something violent is happening in Oswald’s chest and it’s all he can do to finish making the hot chocolate. He places it in front of Ed.

“Thank you,” Ed smiles. “How much do I owe you?”

Oswald shakes his head vigorously. “It’s on me.”

Ed looks for a moment like he might be about to argue but settles instead for a smile and an appreciative nod as he wraps his gloved hands around it.

“Please think about what I said?” Ed says as he turns to go and sit at his table.

Oswald nods too forcefully and tries his damnedest to smile. If Ed notices his odd behaviour, he doesn’t comment. Oswald watches as Ed sits down, places the cup on the table and starts pulling out his notebooks and stationary. All set up, Ed takes a sip of his drink and looks to Oswald and smiles and gives him a thumbs up. That dork. How Oswald missed him.

That feeling of Ed endearing Oswald to him is back, except as he stares, it becomes a forceful wave of emotion that makes his breath catch in his throat.

He panics. He can’t do this in front of Ed.

He hobbles out the back to the coat rack and leans both his palms on the wall beside it, breathing heavily as if he’s just run a marathon. The feelings coursing through him are so new and intense that Oswald feels completely overwhelmed.

What is happening? Wasn’t friendship what Oswald wanted? Oswald doesn’t date. He doesn’t _do_ relationships. Ed is finally on the same page, it seems, and Oswald should be delighted. Except they’re not. Oswald no longer cares about his stupid rules. He’s so tired of living under the weight of what happened, the fear of allowing someone to get close enough to hurt him like that again dictating his lonely life. He _wants_ to let go.

All that time, Oswald had agonised about how to be Ed’s friend while Ed felt the way he did about him. And now Ed’s finally suggesting it, he finds he can’t bear the thought of it. He can’t just be friends with Ed.

Because Oswald is in love with him.

Oswald tries to control his breathing, but his heart is thundering in his chest and there are tears prickling in his eyes. He wills himself to calm down but his panicked thoughts won’t allow it. He’s elated because he’s fallen in love for the first time in his life, but distraught because it might be too late. Ed’s probably proposing that they be friends because he’s used the last few weeks to get over him.

God, what if it _is_ too late?

Tears fall down his cheeks and he distractedly wipes them away. He knows he can’t stay hidden out the back; Ed will think something strange is going on. So he takes a deep breath, checks his face in the staff bathroom mirror, and limps back out the front.

He quickly glances at Ed who’s sitting with his elbows on the table, head in his hands, glasses dangling from between two of his fingers - tiredness Oswald supposes. Seeming to feel Oswald’s eyes on him he puts his glasses back on and looks over, offering a small smile.

What used to be a controllable urge to touch Ed is now a raging fire burning through him. Oswald takes a steadying breath and returns the smile quickly before busying himself with making a fresh cup of tea. Once made, he perches on his stool by the counter and picks up his book, settling in to pretend to read for as long as Ed stays.

 

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, Ed finally moves. Oswald doesn’t think he’s ever lived through a longer two hours. Ed packs away his things, puts his gloves back on and disposes of the empty cup as he approaches the counter.

“It was really good to see you again, Oswald.”

Oswald puts down his book and looks up at him. He can’t believe it took him this long to realise what in retrospect seems obvious. “You too.” The words seem hideously inadequate.

He imagines what it would be like to just be able to reach across the counter and take his hand, to lean over, wrap a hand around his neck and pull Ed towards him for a goodbye kiss. There was a time when Ed was offering all of that to him, before Oswald shot down all his hopes. The urge to put his hands on Ed’s skin is so intense that he puts his hands on the edge of the counter, his grip making his knuckles white. He bites his lip to get himself under control.

He wonders if there’s even a small chance Ed still feels the same way about him. Ed _does_ seem to be waiting for something. He wants to ask – he opens his mouth to do so – but he’s too terrified of the answer. He closes it again.

“Well, I should go and try to get a couple of hours sleep before I have to go to class.”

Oswald nods; he can’t think of anything else to say. Containing the tumult within is using all his concentration. Ed looks downcast as he turns around to leave and Oswald can’t take the sight of those mournful brown eyes.

“Ed, wait!”

Ed turns around, expression questioning. Before he knows what he’s doing, Oswald is hobbling over to the gate and round the counter to Ed. Without stopping to see Ed’s face, he throws his arms around him and holds him tightly.

 _I love you so much_ , Oswald thinks fiercely as he breathes in the smell of Ed’s cologne. With Ed this close, the fire inside burns down to a simmer. He can’t stop his hands roaming across Ed’s back.

Ed doesn’t react for a moment, seeming too shocked to do anything, but then leans down and gently places his arms around Oswald’s shoulders and hugs him just as tight. His breathy sigh is audible next to Oswald’s ear.

Eventually they pull apart, and the smile on Ed’s face is so beautiful it makes Oswald’s heart ache.

“So,” Ed says, voice croaky. “Does this mean we’re friends?”

Oswald has to actively stop himself from recoiling as though he’s been struck. He’s giving himself a headache trying to hold the tears back.

“Friends. Yes of course,” Oswald manages.

Ed’s grin is blinding. It’s quick to fade however, as he stares down at Oswald, reading and analysing him. He seems satisfied with what he sees.

“Well, as your friend, and I say this completely without agenda, I’d like to suggest something which I think might help you,” Ed says in a nervous rush, fiddling with his glasses. “I think you should talk to Jim. I think it would give you closure.”

Oswald purses his lips and looks down at yet another mention of Jim. As much as he hates to admit it, it does make sense. A conversation with Jim is the final hurdle between him and moving on. But what is the point in moving on if Ed only wants to be friends? There _is_ no one else. Ed is the only one.

Oswald looks up from Ed’s chest to his face. Ed’s expression is half-nervous, half-hopeful. Ed genuinely wants to help him, Oswald can see that, and he thinks he owes it to both of them to try Ed’s suggestion. The thought of facing Jim is terrifying, but he wants to make Ed proud of him.

And after all, he is Oswald Cobblepot. He can face down anything.

He stands up straight and inhales deeply. “All right. Tell him to come by tomorrow at five, when I close. I’m done with this twenty-four seven opening thing, I told Miss Mooney it doesn’t work for midterms, and no one is coming out in this weather anyway.”

“Okay, great!’ Ed says. “Well I’ll see you around, Oswald. Good luck tomorrow.” He puts his hand on Oswald’s shoulder and squeezes slightly. “I really believe you can do anything.”

“Thank you, Ed. Now go get some sleep.”

Ed squeezes Oswald’s shoulder one more time, smiles, and then leaves.

Oswald watches him slowly make his way down the street outside and waits until he’s out of sight before he heads out back to finally let himself cry.

 

* * *

 

The light that streams in through the doorway wakes Jim up. He leans over on his side, cracks open one eye and murmurs sleepily, “how did it go?”

Ed doesn’t reply immediately and Jim squints into the darkness now that Ed’s closed the door. He’s stumbling around, knocking into things as he tries to get rid of his layers while shivering.

“Just turn the lamp on Ed. I’m awake.”

Ed bends down to do so before proceeding to struggle undoing his shirt with his shaking hands.

“He agreed to be friends.”

“ _What_?”

“Well after what you said,” Ed says, stripping down to a t-shirt and boxers, “I thought he would be amenable to friendship.”

Jim flops on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “ _Oh my god._ ” He sighs. Jim didn’t sign up for this.

He hears the sounds of Ed crawling into bed and wrapping the covers tightly around himself, complaining about how cold his bed is.

When he finally stills he says, “also, I said you would stop by the café tonight. Talk to him. Give him closure.”

“Oh my _god_.” Jim whines again, exasperated. He rolls onto his side, facing away from Ed, and pulls the covers up over his head.

 

* * *

 

Ed wakes him up a second time when he comes back from his early class. He drops his bag at the bottom of his bed, changing into his t-shirt and boxers straight away and getting back into bed. He noisily blows his nose.

“Oh god, I’m getting sick.”

He does look very pale and Jim takes pity on him. After getting dressed he perches on the edge of Ed’s bed.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have encouraged you to go out at four in the morning.” Jim says, feeling Ed’s forehead. It doesn’t feel like he’s burning up at least.

“It was worth it,” Ed says, putting a palm across his own forehead. “Ugh, my head is _thumping_.”

Jim goes to fill a glass with water and to fetch some painkillers from the bathroom cabinet. He heads back into the room and hands them to Ed.

After taking the pills, Ed lays back down, chest heaving.

“Are you gonna be okay, Ed? I told Barbara I would come over but—”

“I’ll be fine,” Ed interrupts. “I just need to sleep.”

“Okay. Well I’ll see you tonight then.” Jim starts putting his coat on.

“Jim?”

He turns around to see an imploring look on Ed’s face.

“You will go to the café tonight won’t you? Please?”

Even if Ed wasn’t sick, Jim would never be able to turn down that face. When he turns on kicked puppy mode, nobody could refuse Ed anything. What makes it even more endearing is the fact that Ed doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

“I’m kinda pissed at you for not running this by me before you went ahead and told him I would show up,” Jim says honestly. ‘But since you’re sick, I’ll let it slide.”

Ed closes his eyes in relief. “Five o’clock, when he closes.”

“I’ll be there. Last thing I want is to incur the wrath of Oswald Cobblepot.” Jim mutters the latter part to himself.

“Thank you, Jim,” Ed says very quietly. He’s asleep by the time Jim goes out the door.

 

* * *

 

17:02. Jim’s going to have to go over to the door now. There’s no two ways about this, it’s either going to be a complete disaster or the closure they’re all hoping for. Jim wouldn’t say he’s _afraid_ of Oswald exactly, but the guy feels things in extremes. That was something that drew Jim to him, how much love he had to give; until he realised just how far the other way it could go. Jim will never forget the way Oswald screamed at him when he went to try to apologise that summer. He doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of that again.

It has been a couple of years since everything happened; maybe Oswald has learned to control his emotions better.

Jim takes a deep breath and crosses the street. He peers in through the glass door. Ivy is cleaning tables and Oswald is fiddling with the coffee machine. Ivy looks up then and notices him, smiling and waving. He tries to smile back. He turns his attention to Oswald and taps on the glass.

Oswald turns to him and purses his lips. He says something and then throws the keys to Ivy, who comes to the door to let him in, locking it behind him. Jim loiters in the doorway, unsure of where Oswald wants him.

“Take a seat Jim,” Oswald says. “Anywhere you like.”

Jim takes a seat at a two-person table on the left hand side of the café.

“Ivy you can go now, I’ll finish up here after Jim and I are done talking.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow Oswald. Bye Jim!” She practically runs to get away from them and the tense atmosphere. Jim doesn’t blame her.

“See you, Ivy.”

Once she’s gone, Jim sits there awkwardly. He decides to people-watch while he waits for Oswald to join him. He stares out of the window but he can’t focus. He gets lost in thoughts of all the ways this scenario can go wrong and almost manages to convince himself to just get up and leave.

Oswald startles him slightly when he sits down opposite him. He slides a cup across to him and the coffee smell that wafts up from it is delicious. Oswald’s hands then slide around his own cup of tea as he stares intently at Jim.

Jim lifts up the cup to take a sip, but hesitates, half-smiling. “This isn’t poisoned is it?”

He’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, but Oswald’s expression doesn’t change, except for an unamused raised eyebrow. Jim is about to begin his descent into awkward and apologetic when Oswald slowly smiles. Jim lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d be holding and mutters ‘oh my god’ for the hundredth time that day. He finally takes a sip of the coffee and it’s amazing; Oswald remembered how he likes it. He closes his eyes as he savours the richness. When he opens them he sees Oswald looking particularly pleased with himself.

They stare at each other for several moments, and it’s the first time in years that they’ve looked at each other without any trace of animosity.

Oswald is the one that breaks their comfortable silence. ‘Do you want to go first or should I?”

“I’ll try,” Jim says. He doesn’t have a speech prepared, and talking about feelings isn’t exactly his favourite thing to do, but he needs to do this. For both of them.

Oswald sits back in his seat, his bright eyes completely focused on Jim.

“I guess I should start by saying again, even though it’s kind of redundant at this point, I _am_ sorry. I’m sorry I failed you, I’m sorry I failed us. The truth is that when my parents saw us, I’d never been more scared in my life. I’d been around to hear more than a few homophobic rants and I knew my dad would never be okay with me having a boyfriend. It was like everything fell apart in a matter of seconds. They had such high expectations of me and I always worked so hard to meet them, it felt impossible sometimes. I wanted to be the perfect son they thought I was. Them finding us kind of put that in the spotlight, that I was basically living a fake life. Everything was staged, nothing I had was real. My parents cared the most about how things looked, not how they _were_. And the reality of that came crashing down in a few moments, and I froze, I panicked because I didn’t know how to please both them _and_ you. I know I let you down when I didn’t speak up for you. But I was so scared and humiliated and I wasn’t brave enough to stand up to them.” Jim pauses, his voice going croaky from talking so much. He drinks some more of his coffee, relishing the way it burns as it goes down and regenerates him. He puts the cup down and looks at Oswald. His expression is largely unchanged, just that unerring focus he has, with more than a little power to intimidate.

“That day was so special to me. I hate that everything was ruined. That my coming out to my parents caused the end of our relationship and tainted its memory. But it’s easier for me to look back on it now and actually feel glad that we were together. We had some great times.”

He pauses, hopeful that Oswald will agree. But Oswald simply stares at him, gnawing on his lip ring. Jim guesses he’s alone in looking back fondly on the times they spent together.

“And have you now?” Oswald says suddenly, moving forward to lean his elbows on the table.

“Have I what?”

“Stood up to your parents.”

“Eventually. At the time they backed me into a corner by threatening to disown me.”

“ _What_?” Oswald practically shrieks. Jim manages to stop himself flinching.

“That was why I shut you out. My parents were ready to kick me out and pretend I didn’t exist. I would have had nowhere to go.”

Oswald slaps his palm down on the table. “You could have stayed with my mom and me! We would have taken you in, surely you know that!”

“They’re my _parents_ Oswald. I only ever wanted their approval. It took me too long to realise that I’m not what they wanted and that I can’t keep pretending.”

Oswald’s breath leaves him in a whoosh and he leans back in his chair again. He drinks his tea in silence, his eyes looking intense through the steam twirling up from the cup.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Oswald says eventually. “I’m sorry your parents are like that.”

Those are almost the exact words Ed had said to him. Jim smiles despite himself and plays his role. “Me too,” he says.

Another comfortable silence descends and Jim waits with more than a little trepidation for Oswald to say his piece.

“I’m not going to lie to you Jim,” Oswald begins. “It was a traumatic first experience of love.”

So Oswald had loved him too. Jim’s heart leaps happily in his chest. He’d always wondered.

With some effort, he manages not to let his emotions at this revelation show on his face. A wrong move now could shut Oswald down again, perhaps irrevocably.

“But the path I chose in order to cope was neither the best nor the wisest. I didn’t realise how much it was damaging me until I met Ed. And I can’t blame you for the fact that I closed myself off emotionally. I chose to do that, as a coping mechanism. It helped me get through the rest of high school. It was _so_ lonely, Jim.” Oswald is maintaining eye contact with Jim as he says all of this, and it’s cutting Jim to the core. He couldn’t look away now, even if he wanted to.

“For a long time, I held you responsible. I believed you had betrayed me. And it became the basis for the cold person I turned into. It wasn’t until Ed turned up that I started to re-evaluate things, and consider whether I had put the blame in the right place. I eventually realised that your parents were at the heart of things, not you.” Oswald leans forward again, folding his arms on the table. “The worst thing, for me, was when you acted like I didn’t exist. I had no idea why and there was nothing to go on. It almost felt like I made our whole relationship up in my head. That was the most painful thing to me – feeling like everything we had meant nothing to you. Feeling like that was unbearable.”

Jim reaches across the table; he wants to take one of Oswald’s hands in his own, but he thinks the better of it and restricts his hands to his cup. Oswald notices the movement and holds out his hand in the middle of the table. Jim doesn’t hesitate to take it. There is a period of silence while each of them takes in the comfort offered from the touch.

“I forgive you Jim.”

Jim has waited a long time to hear those words. It’s like a weight he’s been carrying around for years has finally been lifted from his shoulders. His eyes are stinging and threatening tears, and he blinks them back. He squeezes Oswald’s hand and smiles. He notices that tears are freely falling down Oswald’s cheeks. He guesses this is a huge relief for him too.

“I also wanted to say I’m sorry for my behaviour when you came to my apartment that summer. I have a bit of a temper—”

Jim fails to stop the snort escaping. “That’s the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard. You were terrifying.”

Oswald laughs, and god Jim missed that.

“Well, I _am_ sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

They smile at each other across the table and it’s like that first time they were together in the janitor’s closet. All the barriers between them are dissipating.

“Well I should probably get back to the dorm,’ Jim says after a while, “I gotta check on Ed.”

Jim watches as his words hit their target. Concern takes over Oswald’s features and he takes his hand out of Jim’s.

“Check on him? Why? Is he okay?”

“Just a cold and tiredness I think. He’ll probably be fine in a couple of days. You could come back with me if you like, I’m sure he would love to see you.”

Jim watches Oswald’s eyes light up at the prospect, but then he looks down, frowning.

“I can’t, I promised mom we’d make dinner together tonight. This will be the first normal time I’ve finished work in weeks.”

Jim nods and moves to stand, a bit irritated Plan A failed. Oswald stands as well.

“But if you wouldn’t mind, you could take something to him for me?”

“Sure.”

Oswald hobbles behind the counter and starts preparing a cup of something. “Pass me one of those cup sleeves from over there would you?”

Jim hands him one and watches as Oswald grabs a purple sharpie and writes something on it before sliding it on the cup and handing it to Jim.

“It’s ginger tea with honey,” he says. “Mom’s remedy for a sore throat. I don’t know what sort of cold he has, but it might make him feel a little better.”

Jim takes the cup, tactfully avoiding reading whatever Oswald has written. Jim takes a deep breath. Time for Plan B.

“You need to tell him Oswald.”

Oswald gives him a would-be innocent look. Oswald is so expressive that he can never mask what he’s actually feeling, and it’s almost funny when he tries.

“Tell him what?”

“That he’s the love of your life, obviously.” Jim enjoys the dramatic effect these words have on Oswald. He gasps and looks for a moment like he might be about to deny it before he crumbles.

“I only realised myself last night. I’ve been an idiot. I _am_ an idiot.” He leans his elbows on the counter and rubs his eyes. He’s quite clearly physically and mentally drained.

Jim puts the cup on the counter for a second and pries Oswald’s hands away from his face. He puts both his hands on Oswald’s upper arms and looks him in the eyes.

“Tell him Oswald. Trust me.”

He picks up the cup again and heads out, using the key left in the door by Ivy, before Oswald can reply, throwing a “see you soon Ozzie!” over his shoulder. His work here is done.

 

* * *

 

Ed is propped up in his bed, text book open in front of him, when Jim returns. He’s more than a little nervous about hearing the outcome of his plan. The moment they make eye contact, Jim flashes a huge grin at him, and Ed sags against the pillows in relief.

Jim comes to sit on the edge of his bed and hands him a cup. Jim is always so thoughtful. Ed thanks him but Jim shakes his head.

“It’s from Oswald. He made it for you when I told him you were sick.”

The thought makes Ed’s heart ache. He takes the lid off the cup and smells the sweet liquid, the steam alone helping him to breathe easier. He takes a sip of it and tastes amazing, soothing his throat as it goes down.

“There’s a message on the sleeve too I think. Don’t worry, I didn’t read it.”

Ed twists the cup until he sees purple haphazard handwriting.

 _Thank you Ed_  
_Get well soon_  
_-OC_

It’s only by pure force of will that Ed manages not to hug the cup to his chest.

He helped his two closest friends find peace, maybe his own will be next.

 

* * *

 

Oswald is laying down across the couch rubbing at his overly full stomach, his head in Gertrud’s lap. She is playing absently with strands of his hair.

After a while of comfortable food coma-induced silence, Oswald finally speaks.

“I talked to Jim today.”

Gertrud ceases her soothing motions and looks down with concern.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am actually. More so than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Oh Oswald! I am so happy! You have finally been able to let go?”

“I forgave him, so I guess so.” He smiles up at her. She beams back at him.

“And what about that other boy, Edward?” She returns to stroking his hair.

“I saw him last night. I hadn’t seen him in months. I hadn’t realised how much I missed him and it suddenly hit me…” Oswald trails off, remembering how realising he was in love made him feel like he was having an asthma attack. Breathing problems aside, it was the single most wonderful thing he’d ever felt.

“You love him.” Gertrud states, like it’s obvious.

“I—you knew?”

“I could see it in your eyes the first time you spoke about him. Have you told him yet?”

To Gertrud there’s no question that Oswald should say what he’s feeling. Everything is very simple for her.

“I want to,” Oswald says, after some consideration. “More than anything, I want to. But even if he does still feel the same, what right have I to expect that he would be willing to give me a chance, after I flat out denied him one? I don’t think I could bear it if he refused me.”

“He’s not going to refuse you, Oswald darling. Only a stupid boy would do such a thing. And you said Edward was intelligent. He still loves you. I am certain of it. Remember what I’ve always told you?”

“Life only gives you one true love, I know. But that’s what makes this so terrifying. That he’s it for me, and he could tell me no.” Oswald doesn’t think he has any tears left in him to cry at this point.

“He won’t. I am sure of it. And Oswald, if you do not tell him, you will regret it for the rest of your life. There’s nothing worse than a lost love. I should know.”

She is of course speaking of Oswald’s father. Gertrud has never so much as looked at anyone else, because for her there is no one else. She carries that love around with her everywhere she goes and speaks so fondly of him. Oswald is inspired by her devotion.

And that’s what solidifies his resolve. Oswald knows that his happiness is also hers. It’s a huge risk, but he’s already come this far. He talked about things rationally with Jim, even forgave him, which he never thought he’d be able to do. Jim encouraged Oswald to tell Ed, and he doesn’t think that Jim would risk their tentative truce by sending him into a situation which would only produce more heartbreak. He knows Jim, and believes him when he says he would never intentionally hurt him.

He’s going to do it. He’s ready now.


	11. Chapter 11

“What’s up with you?” Ivy questions as they start closing for the day.

“There’s something important I have to do tonight, is all.” Oswald replies as he cleans out the coffee filters.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain nerd we both know would it?”

Oswald glares daggers at her, hoping he conveys enough in the look to shut her up. His stomach is doing somersaults as it is, talking about it will probably only make it worse.

“Victor, a moment if you please,” he says, finishing with the coffee filters.

Victor joins Oswald and Ivy behind the counter, cloth and spray in hand. They both stare down at him expectantly.

“I need to take the day off tomorrow, will you two be okay to run the café together?”

Oswald doesn’t miss the barely contained amused eye contact between Ivy and Victor.

“Of course Ozzie,” Ivy says cheerfully. “We’ve done it before.”

“Everything’s up to date. There will be some stock arriving in the morning but it should be manageable if one of you checks it and puts it away and the other stays on the counter.”

“Seriously Oswald, you never take days off. Everything will be fine. The place won’t fall apart without you.”

Oswald takes deep breaths, trying to maintain calm as the first part of his plan falls into place. He’s really doing this.

“Go get your boy, Ozzie.” Ivy says with barely contained glee. Oswald looks to Victor, who is also smiling encouragingly.

“Good luck, boss.”

“Thank you,” Oswald says distantly. “You two okay to finish up here? I need to get going before this drink gets cold.”

“Yup, all taken care of,” Ivy says, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Oswald goes to put on his pea coat and scarf and grabs the cup.

He halts just before the door and says, “don’t call me unless you absolutely need to.”

“We won’t,” Victor says, smirking.

Oswald nods, and heads out the door.

They probably think the drink is for Ed, but the truth is it’s actually for Susan at the academic registry. Whilst going over his plan of action, he realised he doesn’t actually know where Jim and Ed live. He could of course ask Ivy to ask Jim, but he doesn’t want to make a big fuss or for anyone to think that he _needs_ their assistance.

Hot chocolate with melted marshmallows and a healthy layer of flattery on top are Susan’s weaknesses. He’ll have Ed’s address in no time.

 

* * *

 

The building where Jim and Ed live is one of the nicer ones. The only other time Oswald was in halls was when he went home with (another) guy called Victor. But that dormitory was one of the single most disgusting places to live that Oswald had ever seen. The night he had was more than worth it, though. This place is much more upscale and Oswald feels more than a little out of place as he follows the numbers and arrows to Jim and Ed’s room.

When he finally reaches it, he looks up and down the corridor before very quietly pressing his ear against the door to see if he can hear any sounds from within.

He hears a muffled beeping and what sounds like laser guns. Someone is playing video games. There is no talking. He hopes to god that Ed is actually in there otherwise this is going to be pretty humiliating.

He takes a moment to compose himself before finally knocking. The sound seems deafening in the empty corridor.

He hears Jim say, “I’ll get it,” and moments later he opens the door.

Jim seems momentarily surprised, eyebrows raising almost to his hairline, before recovering himself and smiling. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Oswald says, still getting used to being on friendly terms with Jim again.

“Hey Barbara,” comes Ed’s voice from within. At the sound of Ed’s voice Oswald’s heart starts beating double time. His mouth is suddenly very dry. He can do this.

Oswald tilts his head and looks at Jim. “Barbara?’ he asks.

“Girlfriend,” Jim replies somewhat sheepishly.

“Ah,” Oswald says, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Jim suddenly turns to Ed in an obvious move to shrug off the awkwardness.

“It’s not Barbara, Ed,” Jim says stepping aside.

Oswald steps just inside the door and looks round the room until his eyes find Ed.

“Oswald!” Ed says placing the book that had been propped up on his chest beside him. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine!” Oswald grits out, thrown by the sight of Ed laying on a bed. “I just wanted to talk with you, if that’s all right.”

Ed looks at Jim and opens his mouth but Jim gets there first.

“Okay well I’m gonna go,” Jim says, grabbing his parka. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Ed looks a bit perplexed by the whole thing. “Oh, um, okay. Bye Jim.”

As Jim passes Oswald on his way out, he pats him on the shoulder and says very quietly, “you got this.”

And then it’s just Oswald and Edward staring at each other in a private space. Oswald is very aware of the fact they’re alone together and that anything could happen. Oswald had a very restless night thinking about some of the more positive outcomes of this discussion with Ed.

He takes a few steps into the room, closer to Ed, who is now sitting up, legs crossed. He’s looking up at him, expression slightly confused.

“I hope you’re feeling better?” Oswald says.

“Yes, I think sleep was all I needed. And, oh, thank you for the tea, it was really quite lovely.”

Oswald smiles tightly. He tries to think of something else to say, but there really isn’t any way he can put this off any longer.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Oswald says. He opens his mouth to just come out with it, but nerves overcome him again. He starts pacing back and forth, trying to summon the courage.

Ed swings his legs round to sit on the edge of the bed, watching Oswald.

“You know you can tell me anything. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Oswald abruptly stops and swivels on his feet to face Ed. He _loathes_ that word.

“That’s just it—I don’t want to be ‘friends’ Ed!” He snaps.

Ed looks hurt and Oswald can’t believe he’s managed to screw this up already. He watches as Ed looks down and mutters ‘shut _up_ ’ to the space on the bed next to him. Has Oswald upset him so much he disturbed Ed’s demons? He needs to just come out with it before he causes anymore damage.

“I’m sorry,” Oswald says, “I’m just so nervous.”

Ed looks up at Oswald, eyes glassy. “Why?”

Oswald hears his mother’s words in his head and it gives him courage. He takes a deep breath.

“Because I love you, and I’m scared you don’t feel the same anymore.” Oswald closes his eyes and sighs. He’s finally done it.

But Ed doesn’t say anything. There’s just silence. Oswald opens his eyes and finds Ed looking up at him disbelievingly, his breaths shuddering.

“What did you say?” he whispers.

“I love you, Ed.” He lets the emotion take hold of him, the feeling of telling the man he loves how he feels making a smile bloom across his face. He hopes Ed can see it. Everything hinges on this moment.

‘I’m sorry it took me so long Ed, I—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish what he was saying as Ed jumps up and almost knocks him over with the force of the hug he gives him. Oswald can feel Ed’s hands trembling even through his coat. His own eyes are stinging with tears. Ed still loves him.

But he has to be certain.

“I don’t want to make assumptions, I’ve made that mistake before, so I’m going to need verbal confirmation that you do still feel the same,” Oswald says, voice slightly muffled by Ed’s shoulder.

Ed pulls back, putting his palms on either side of Oswald’s face. “Does it really need to be verbal?” And then he’s leaning down and, oh god, Ed is going to kiss him.

Except he changes his trajectory at the last moment and, moving one hand to his shoulder, places a tender kiss on his cheek that seems to burn right through his skin. Ed leans back up to his full height and bites his lip, looking somewhat nervous. Oswald mindlessly touches his cheek as if he could feel the ashes.

Surely that’s an invitation to kiss him properly? He leans up on his tip-toes to try to reach Ed’s lips, but damnit, he’s not tall enough. And Ed isn’t doing anything to help. In fact, he cocks his head, amused.

“Hey growth spurt,” Oswald says, irritated. “You’re going to have to help me out here.”

“How did you know where to find me?” Ed says, still not moving.

‘Seriously, Ed? I’m trying to kiss you and _that’s_ what you’re thinking about?”

“I don’t like unsolved puzzles.” He says, although he’s grinning like nothing’s ever mattered to him less.

Oswald did make Ed wait a long time, he supposes. He’s entitled to be a smug asshole.

For a little while.

“Let’s just say college is a detour on the way to a life of crime.”

Ed’s grin widens. “I could be your sidekick.”

“I think we both know your brain is far too big to be anyone’s sidekick.”

Ed preens. He actually _preens_. Clearly compliments about his intellect are the way to go.

“Stop distracting me,” Oswald says, trying to make his voice sound commanding, “and kiss me.”

Ed’s eyes darken; it seems he likes Oswald telling him what to do. Oswald files that piece of information away for later use. Ed finally starts to lean down, parting his lips, and they’re inches away from sharing their first kiss when an obnoxiously loud bark of laughter from a neighbouring room makes Ed draw back, startled. Oswald doesn’t restrain the urge to put his head in his hands.

“We can’t do this here,” Ed says, grabbing a dark green coat and slipping his feet into his Chucks. Picking up his car keys from the night stand he says, “that is, if you would like to come to my house.”

This notion fills Oswald with anxiety. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be alone with Ed, because god does he want to be, but homes are where parents are.

“Um, will there be anyone there?” It’s the closest he’s willing to get to broaching the subject of parents, and his previous experiences with them. Thankfully, he can see in Ed’s eyes that he knows what Oswald is trying to say.

“No, just the maid, and the gardener. But they’ll leave us to our own devices. My parents are in Europe, just arrived a few days ago. I don’t think they’re coming back any time soon.”

“The _maid_?” Oswald says before he can stop himself. “Your house is pretty big then?”

“Oh yes. It’s ridiculous. I don’t really like it, but it will be nicer with you there.” He opens the door and holds out his hand, smiling encouragingly. Oswald takes it and entwines their fingers together, the feeling making him giddy.

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The drive upstate is an experience Oswald will always remember. He leans back in the seat, turning his head to watch the street lamps and headlights play over Ed’s face. It brings him a peace and contentment he’s never known before. _Madness_ by Muse is playing quietly on the radio. He’s going to add it to a new CD for the café so that when he’s working he’ll always be reminded of this.

Ed keeps sneaking looks at him and smiling. When Ed doesn’t need to change gear for a while, they hold hands across the seats. Oswald’s heart races with the possibilities of what might happen when they’re finally alone together, no café customers, no roommates, no parents. But nothing has to happen tonight. Oswald would settle for a kiss. He _really_ wants to kiss Ed. The need for it is simmering low in his belly and he knows their first kiss is going to be spectacular when it happens.

Ed finally pulls off the highway and heads down a smaller road, then turning into what Oswald first thinks is a back road but turns out to be the considerably long driveway to Ed’s house. At the end of the driveway are gates and Ed has to lean out the window to key in a code that opens them.

Ed parks the Mustang in front of the house and Oswald steps out of the car to be dwarfed by what is indeed a ridiculously over-the-top house. If you can call it that. It looks more like a mansion than a house. If this wasn’t the best day of Oswald’s life thus far he would be getting a complex about how squalid his home is in comparison.

Ed lets them in the front door, which again seems to be an inadequate description. It’s more like a castle gate. Once inside, Oswald’s feelings of being extremely small continue, as he takes in the cavernous nature of the vaulting ceilings and the expensive looking pieces of art that adorn the walls.

There’s a scurrying sound to their right and a woman who is clearly the maid says, “Master Nash—”

Ed looks angry. What had she just been about to call him? Oswald makes a mental note to ask about it later.

“Polina, do you remember the instructions I gave you the last time I came home?”

She nods, looking at Ed with distaste. Oswald instantly dislikes her.

“Then what are you still doing here?”

If Oswald was on the receiving end of that glare he would be considerably more afraid than Polina seems to be. As it is she scrunches up her nose and dramatically stomps off.

“Wow, having servants seems fun.” Oswald says once Polina is gone.

Ed turns to him and brightens. “Well, it could be. May I take your coat, Mr. Cobblepot?” He makes a show of leaning forward and proffering his arm for Oswald to lay his coat over. Oswald lets out an amused exhale as he takes off his coat.

“That you may, Mr. Nygma.”

Ed’s grin widens. He takes Oswald’s coat and disappears into a small room on the right-hand side of the hall. He comes back, divested of his own. He takes Oswald’s hand, running his thumb over the top of it.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Oswald dutifully follows, trying not to make too much noise with his limp. Everything echoes in this room.

Ed leads him past the staircase to a room on the left-hand side of the hall. He opens the door but then stands to the side, gesturing for Oswald to enter first.

Ed flips on the lights and when Oswald enters, his breath is taken away. What he’s seen of the house so far has been overstated and silly but this room has been perfectly crafted. It’s got that old-world gothic feel about it, with the globes and maps and old-style gas lamps on the walls making it feel like it belongs to an academic. Which Oswald supposes in a way it does.

It’s one of the most magnificent libraries Oswald has ever seen. Not that he’s seen many.

“Do you know how _Beauty and the Beast_ it is to show me your library?” Oswald jokes as he takes his hand from Ed’s and moves further into the room to inspect the maps.

“Never seen it,” Ed replies, following him.

Oswald stops and turns abruptly. “What? Did you not have a childhood or something?”

When Ed’s face falls, Oswald knows it was the wrong thing to say. Oswald opens his mouth to apologise but Ed gets there first.

“There’s something in here I think you’ll really like,” he says hurriedly, “next aisle down, on the end.”

Oswald still feels bad, and he squeezes Ed’s hand, eliciting a small smile from him, before he proceeds to the next aisle.

He immediately sees why Ed thought he would like it. The entire unit is full of books about birds. Some of the titles are as rare as the birds they’re about, and Oswald gasps at one particular volume as he ghosts his fingers over its spine reverently. On the shelf roughly level with his head, there’s a noticeable gap, and Oswald doesn’t have to guess to know what book used to live there. He grips the shelf with both hands, overcome with emotion.

He feels Ed step up behind him, almost close enough to touch. He shivers.

“I saw the riddle. That day we went to the theme park. When I got home, I knocked the book off my table and it opened on the page with your riddle. I’m so sorry, Ed.” He hopes Ed knows he doesn’t just mean about not seeing the riddle.

Ed is says nothing, and the long silence that stretches out is fragile like glass. Oswald is scared of breaking it, scared to move.

He hears Ed’s breaths quicken just before his arms come around him to cover Oswald’s hands with his own. Oswald loosens his grip on the shelf so Ed can slot their fingers together. He watches enraptured as Ed moves his fingers back and forth between his. In his chest his heart is thundering.

“Oswald.” Ed says in his ear, voice throaty. “Turn around.”

Ed steps back to allow Oswald space to do so. When he’s facing Ed, he notices Ed’s pupils are dilated and his chest is heaving. Oswald’s skin is humming. His breathing has never seemed so loud.

“ _Oswald_.” He says again, and Oswald can’t take it anymore.

They both lunge at the same time, Oswald on tip-toes, Ed leaning down, and they meet in the middle. Ed makes a desperate sound the moment their lips make contact and Oswald buries his hands in Ed’s hair to deepen the kiss. Ed shoves him against the bookcase, his hands on Oswald’s back, pressing their bodies together.

It is even more spectacular than he could ever have imagined. He holds onto Ed for dear life.

Ed boldly runs his tongue along Oswald’s bottom lip, teasing his lip ring and gently biting it. Oswald moans and uses it as an excuse to lick into his mouth, thoroughly ravaging it. Ed gives as good as he gets, constantly returning to the lip ring, the sensation turning Oswald on so much he jerks forward and makes contact with Ed’s cock through their pants. He’s as hard as Oswald is, and he groans into Oswald’s mouth as he thrusts back. They rut against each other, moaning and breathing into each other’s mouths.

The pressure, however, becomes difficult for Oswald’s leg to take and he moves a hand from Ed’s hair to his arm to steady himself. Ed notices immediately.

“Bed—upstairs—more comfortable,” Ed manages.

Oswald would feel proud of Ed’s incoherence if he wasn’t so utterly debauched and brain-fried himself. Through half lidded eyes, Oswald nods fervently. Ed kisses him again before taking his hand and leading the way.

 

* * *

 

Somehow they get into the room, neither of them willing to stop kissing once they get to the top of the stairs. They crash through the door, Ed having to fumble around and make several attempts at turning the doorknob.

“Lie down on the bed,” Ed says, finally tearing himself away from Oswald. Oswald maintains eye contact as he backs up towards the bed, Ed following him like a predator.

When his legs hit the back of the bed, Oswald climbs onto it, lying down with his head on one of the pillows. Ed is on top of him in a flash, lowering his body onto Oswald’s, finding that exquisite drag again immediately.

They find a frenzied rhythm and Oswald finds himself at the brink worryingly quickly. He needs to make Ed come first. He moves his hands from Ed’s hair down to the hem at the bottom of Ed’s shirt and jumper. He dips his hands under and says between kisses “is this okay?”

“Yes. _Please_.” Ed says.

Oswald then runs his hands up the smooth, hot skin of Ed’s back. Ed shudders and drops his head to Oswald’s neck, mouthing at it desperately and making little whining sounds. He moves faster against Oswald, hands fisting desperately in the sheets.

When he reaches Ed’s shoulder blades he digs in his fingernails and drags them down the length of his back. Ed immediately jerks against him roughly and moans obscenely into Oswald’s neck as he climaxes.

Ed’s moan is the hottest sound he’s ever heard and it pushes him over the edge. He grabs Ed’s ass and presses his cock against his as he comes, head thrown back.

It’s the most intense orgasm Oswald has ever experienced.

And they didn’t even take their clothes off.

As he gets his breath back, Oswald starts giggling. He can’t help himself. Ed pushes himself up on his arms and looks down at him. He’s still panting a bit, face flushed, damp hair falling down his forehead. Oswald memorises that image for days where he might not be able to see Ed.

“I’m sorry,” Oswald says, running a hand over his face. “It’s just I’ve never wanted someone so much before that I couldn’t spare the time to get their clothes off.”

It’s a bit of a faux pas to reference previous lovers but Ed doesn’t seem to notice. He grins at him dopily before flopping on his back beside Oswald.

They’re silent for a while, allowing their breathing to return to normal as they stare up at the ceiling and process what just happened.

“When did you know?” Ed says eventually, leaning on his side to face Oswald.

“When you came back,” Oswald says, moving his head to face Ed. “I don’t know if you noticed but I disappeared for a while out the back. I was having something like a panic attack because I’d just realised what I felt for you and you said you wanted to be friends…”

“I’m sorry.” Ed says, looking down. “I was really going to try though. I didn’t want to lose you from my life all together.”

Oswald chuckles.“Well now you’re stuck with me.”

“I hope so,” Ed replies. And he _does_ look so honestly hopeful that Oswald moves onto his side to kiss him.

Then he wrinkles his nose at the disgusting sticky feeling in his pants. “Oh that’s gross.”

Ed looks amused as he gingerly gets up and goes over to a set of drawers next to the wardrobe. “Here, you can borrow these. En suite’s just through that door. You’re of course welcome to take a shower.”

He throws a pair of boxer briefs over to Oswald.

Oswald gets up to hobble to the bathroom and says, “wow, wearing each other’s clothes already.”

“We’ve actually been doing that for a while now.” Ed says, smirking.

Of course. When Oswald pointlessly lent Ed one of his favourite shirts so he wouldn’t have to wear his soaked one.

“You looked so hot that day,” he says from the doorway to the bathroom. “With your clothes sticking to your skin like that. You looked like a wet dream. You have no idea how difficult it was for me to restrain myself.”

Ed blushes fiercely and Oswald goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, very satisfied with himself.

 

* * *

 

When they’re both showered and changed, Ed offers to make them dinner. Ed hasn’t had the time to plan anything fancy, so he throws together a basic pasta dish and gets Oswald to choose a bottle from the wine rack in the adjacent living room. He sets the table, or the island in the kitchen which they’re going to use as their table, before finding a couple of glasses and filling them. They move around each other with a comfortable ease, and Ed finds himself really enjoying the domesticity of it all.

He stirs the sauce on the hob and smiles when Oswald’s arms wrap around his waist. Ed doesn’t know how to handle so much joy.

He leaves the spoon in the pan and turns around. He places his hands on either side of Oswald’s face, captures his bottom lip between his and pours everything he’s feeling into the kiss.

“Now don’t distract me or I’ll become the first moron to burn pasta,” Ed mock-chides as he leans away. He doesn’t miss the way Oswald sways on his feet as he turns his attention back to the food. He feels so light he could float away.

“Do you want a hand with something?” Oswald asks, leaning back against the island.

“No, you can take a seat, it’s almost ready.”

Ed serves their food and takes a seat at the table. Oswald thanks him and picks up his wine glass.

“We should toast to something,” he says.

Ed gives it a moment’s thought before raising his own glass. “To finally finding each other.”

Oswald’s already bright eyes seem to light up even more as he clinks his glass with Ed’s and adds, “to always finding each other.”

Considering they only _just_ got together, it’s a loaded remark. But it feels right. Ed wants Oswald to be his first, and his last.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Ed suggests they retire to the living room. They cuddle together on the enormous sofa, giddy at being able to touch each other like this. Ed lays back, propped up by a big cushion at the end of the chair, Oswald in his arms, his head on his chest.

“Oswald, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” Oswald murmurs sleepily from his chest.

“I’m really scared you might not see me the same way anymore after I tell you.” He holds Oswald tightly to him, as if he could deprive him of the ability to walk away.

“Is it your hallucinations?”

Ed freezes.“You know?”

Oswald sits up between Ed’s legs. It seems he thinks this is a conversation that needs to be face to face, and Ed agrees.

“Yes, I know. Jim told Ivy, and Ivy told me. Don’t be mad at Jim; I don’t think he meant to tell her. He was upset about you leaving, and I guess it just slipped out. And well. Ivy is very loyal to me.”

Ed sags back against the cushion, sighing in relief. “I’m not mad. If you already know then it means you can still love me despite the fact there’s something wrong with me.”

Oswald looks at him, eyes wide and expression incredulous.

“It’s not even a question, Ed. I would still love you even if you totally lost it and killed a bunch of people.”

“It could happen.” Ed says, knowing he has to make Oswald completely aware of what he’s taking on. “Anything could happen. Over the past couple of years, he, the other me, I call him Other-Ed, has been getting stronger. I’m scared there might be a point when he can completely take over and I can’t stop him. Sometimes he manifests as a hallucination that looks exactly the same as me. Sometimes it’s as a voice in my head. Every night he visits me in my sleep and tries to goad me into doing things I really don’t want to do. I just want to be _me_ Oswald. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can handle myself, Ed. I work for Fish Mooney. I live in a rough neighbourhood in Gotham. I’ve seen some pretty grizzly things. If need be, I’ll be there beside you to help you bury the bodies.”

Ed waits for him to laugh like he’s made a joke. But he doesn’t. He’s holding Ed’s gaze with complete sincerity. He doesn’t know what unnerves him more, the prospect of Other-Ed taking him on a killing spree, or the fact that Oswald would help him destroy the evidence without batting an eyelid. Ed gulps.

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He leans forward and Oswald meets him halfway for a kiss. “When I’m with you it’s always quiet in my head, I guess, because you make me happy, and he usually only manifests when I’m feeling extreme negative emotions which make me weak. But there is a flipside to that, you making me so happy he stays away, I mean, like that night by the river, after that I had the most severe episode I’ve ever had—no, don’t apologise, it’s not your fault. It all started with me _letting_ him take over. I don’t think there will always be a choice.”

“When I told you earlier I didn’t want to be friends… You muttered ‘shut up’. Was that to ‘Other-Ed’?”

“Yes, because I was really hurt in that moment, and he seized upon it to taunt me with the idea that you didn’t even consider me worth being friends with.”

Oswald tilts his head and simply stares at him with wonder in his eyes.

“What?” Ed asks nervously.

“You’re amazing,” Oswald states simply. He reaches out a hand to caress Ed’s cheek with his thumb. Ed frowns; he doesn’t deserve such praise.

“You carry that around with you everywhere you go, but you’re still managing to live a normal life. You’re just carrying on. That’s incredible.”

“You’re one to talk,” Ed says, lightly touching Oswald’s bad leg.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Oswald muses.

Ed smiles and leans over to kiss him again. What starts as a tender, reassuring kiss becomes more heated and passionate as tongues intertwine and hands start to roam.

“Can we go back upstairs?” Oswald manages to ask breathlessly between kisses.

Ed nods hurriedly and they untangle themselves, heading for Ed’s bedroom as quickly as they can.

 

* * *

 

Ed’s laying on his back and Oswald is on his side next to him. Ed’s shirt and sweater are rucked up and Oswald is running his fingertips across Ed’s stomach, working their way lower and lower. Ed’s stomach jumps as he helplessly shivers, trying to keep pace with Oswald’s kissing but struggling for breath.

As Oswald gets closer to the hem of his jeans, Ed starts to panic. What if Oswald doesn’t like the way he looks? He’s been with at least one other man – what if Ed doesn’t match up? What if he’s, as Other-Ed likes to call him, a disappointment?

Oswald undoes the top button of his jeans with one hand as he kisses his way down Ed’s neck. Ed tries to quell the panic but his breathing is becoming increasingly erratic.

Oswald ceases his ministrations and leans up so he can look down on Ed’s face. “Are you okay?”

All the possible answers that run through Ed’s mind are things he can’t say, things he thinks will make Oswald stop all together, and that’s the last thing he wants. But he has to say something, because Oswald’s starting to look concerned.

“I, um, can we go a bit slower?”

Oswald smiles understandingly. “Of course. We don’t have to do this at all if you don’t want to. We could just hang out.”

“No!’ Ed says, and this is exactly what he was afraid of. “I want to. Let’s just take our time. Is that okay?”

Oswald still looks a bit hesitant, and that won’t do. So Ed does the only logical thing.

He sits up and takes off his sweater, throwing it across the room. Oswald sits up too, looking more than a little bewildered as the sweater flies past his face.

Ed’s heart is pounding but he maintains eye contact with Oswald as he starts to undo the buttons of his shirt. He feels a little ridiculous doing a striptease like this but he _wants_ to be sexy. He _wants_ Oswald to see him as someone who _can_ be sexy. The look in Oswald’s eyes says he finds him so though, his mouth slightly open, his gaze intense. Ed fumbles with a couple of the buttons, but he soldiers on determinedly.

Once the last button is undone, Oswald says something, but it doesn’t come out as more than a whisper. He coughs and tries again.

Sliding his hands under the shoulders of the shirt, he says, “may I?”

Ed nods, leaning in for a kiss as Oswald slides the shirt off his frame. There is something very alluring about Oswald undressing him. Ed hopes he will completely undress him at some point, slowly taking off his clothes piece by piece.

When he pulls back he drops the shirt over the side of the bed. Then he lies back down and watches Oswald’s face closely.

The desire in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of Ed’s body is unmistakable and it bolsters Ed’s confidence. If he likes this much of what he sees, there’s a good chance he’ll like the rest.

Oswald finally drags his gaze from Ed’s body and meets his eyes.

“I’m confused. You want to slow down but now you’re half naked?” His voice cracks slightly on the last word. He clears his throat. Ed feels a heady power in having caused that reaction in him.

It’s too complicated to explain that he just wanted to gouge Oswald’s reaction to what he looks like under his layers of clothes. “Just touch me, Oswald.” Ed takes both of Oswald’s hands and places them on his chest. “Please?”

Oswald is staring, mouth slightly open, at his hands on Ed’s bare skin. His eyes dart up to Ed’s, and he can tell Oswald is trying to read his expression for sincerity. He seems satisfied with whatever he finds. “Okay.”

He then swings his leg over Ed, straddling him. He moves his hands to Ed’s sides, watching his them glide along the skin, eliciting shivers. Oswald smiles at him before lowering his head and starting to plant kisses down Ed’s chest.

Oswald spends what feels like hours lavishing Ed’s body with kisses, nips and touches. Ed’s so hard he can barely think. The attention Oswald gives him, and the amount of time he spends doing it, makes him feel like he’s the most desirable person in the world.

He arches his back, and Oswald takes advantage of it, performing the same tactic he used before, evidently having realised how much Ed liked it, and rakes his nails down Ed’s back as he sucks a love bite into his neck.

Ed cries out. He’s so close. Enough is enough.

Ed rolls them so they’re each on their side facing each other. He starts trying to shove his pants and underwear down one-handed, but he’s not as savvy at this as Oswald, especially when his hands are shaking so much. He flops on his back so he can use both hands.

He sees Oswald look, and his expression is positively feral. He reaches for Oswald’s hand and guides it to his cock, sucking in a sharp breath as Oswald wraps his fingers around it. He bites his lip as Oswald tightens his grip slightly. He smooths his thumb over the head, spreading the precome. But he still doesn’t move his hand. Ed punches the sheets next to him in frustration.

“ _Please_ , Oswald!” He begs.

Oswald leans down so he can speak right into Ed’s ear. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He finally moves his hand, at a slow tortuous speed.

“Maybe next time I’ll take you in my mouth,” Oswald says, biting his earlobe. “Would you like that?”

Ed’s brain has ceased functioning except on the most basic level. “ _Yes_.” It comes out mostly a moan.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” he says, as he speeds up his hand. Ed is moments away from losing his mind in euphoria.

“You’re so beautiful Ed. I want you _so much_.” He runs his thumb over the head again and, that’s it, Ed’s mind is lost. He hooks his arms around Oswald’s shoulders desperately and grabs him tightly, biting into Oswald’s neck to muffle a scream as he comes explosively.

It goes on and on, and when it’s over, Ed is so utterly destroyed he doesn’t think he’ll move ever again. He lets go of Oswald and flops back on the bed, struggling to get his breath back.

 

* * *

 

Oswald doesn’t think his body has ever been so at war with itself before. On the one hand, he’s ridiculously turned on from getting to touch Ed’s skin for so long, and getting to watch him come like that, but on the other, his leg is throbbing in immense pain. He hates having a stupid weakness that compromises situations like this.

He’s spent too long thinking about it, and that makes the decision. He gets up and goes to the bathroom to find a flannel to clean Ed up. When he returns, the sight of Ed laying there, sweaty and chest heaving, marked with his own come, bowls him over again. He sits beside Ed and starts to run the flannel gently over his skin.

Ed, who’d looked like he’d been dozing, looks down and starts trying to sit up.

“Oh, I can...”

Oswald pushes his shoulder back down. “I want to look after you, Ed.”

Ed’s responding smile melts Oswald’s heart. He can’t resist leaning down for a kiss. When Oswald pulls away, Ed says, “Oswald, do you want me to—”

Oswald shakes his head. “No, that’s okay.”

Ed frowns. “Are you not...?”

“Oh believe me I am. I was. It’s just my leg, I’ve put far too much pressure on it today. I need to rest.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry, Ed. That was hands down the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Do you have any idea how sexy you are, Ed? When you started unbuttoning your shirt I thought I was going to pass out.”

Ed’s cheeks go pink and he hides his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t hide from me, Ed. You’re amazing. And I can’t believe how lucky I am that I get to see you like that.”

Ed slowly removes his hands from his face and reaches for one of Oswald’s. He squeezes it and says, voice trembling slightly, “I love you.”

Oswald realises it’s the first time he’s said it since that night by the river and he has to remind himself to breathe. They simply stare at each other, each squeezing the other’s hand every so often, as if to reassure each other this is happening, this is real. They finally got here.

Eventually Ed starts to shiver. He has basically been lying there mostly naked, and the room is not particularly warm.

“You got some pyjamas around here somewhere, Ed?”

Ed pulls up his pants and crosses the room sluggishly. He rifles through the set of drawers, finding a couple of pairs of plaid pyjama bottoms and some threadbare shirts.

Ed comes back to the bed, passing Oswald his spare set. Ed starts to get changed where he stands but Oswald goes to the bathroom. This is not how he wants Ed to see him naked for the first time. He disposes of the flannel then changes into Ed’s pyjamas. The bottoms, as he suspected, are comically long on him and they look like clown pants. He suspects when he goes back into the room his appearance will get a chuckle from Ed.

Except when Oswald comes out of the bathroom, Ed is laying in his bed and appears to be asleep. Oswald doubts he meant to fall asleep because his glasses are still on. It’s incredibly endearing.

“Oswald. What’re you doing over there? Get in here.” Ed murmurs sleepily and somewhat grumpily.

Okay it’s official, sleepy Ed is the most adorable thing ever. Oswald pulls back the covers and kneels beside him. He takes off Ed’s glasses, folding them and setting them on the nightstand. Finally, he turns off the lamp before laying down and pulling the covers up over them.

His heart leaps when Ed pulls him closer so they can cuddle together.

“Ed?” Oswald says, laying his head on Ed’s chest.

“Hm?”

“What was the maid about to call you earlier?”

“Nashton. It’s my birth name.”

It doesn’t escape Oswald that Ed didn’t call it his _real_ name. He clearly doesn’t want to be associated with it.

“Well, I like Nygma better.”

Ed squeezes him tightly.


	12. Chapter 12

Ed is woken up not two hours later by the sound of a phone ringing. His first thought is that it’s weird because he always keeps his phone on vibrate. His second thought is that it’s very warm under the covers, particularly on his left hand side. He looks down, and though the room is only lit by the moonlight and his vision is fuzzy without his glasses, he can make out a black mop of hair burrowed into his side. Oswald’s arm is slung across his middle and he feels a surge of affection deep in his chest. He’d like to simply lay there and enjoy it, but the phone is persistent and obnoxious. He has no idea how it’s not waking Oswald up. He regrettably slips out of Oswald’s embrace and feels around on the night stand on his side for his glasses. Failing that, he stumbles round to the other side of the bed, where he locates them and follows the sound of the phone to Oswald’s pile of clothes. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, pulls out the phone and looks at the screen. The text reads ‘Mom calling.’

Oh dear. Did Oswald not tell his mother he was not going to be home tonight? He hopes she’s not too worried. It would be a bad first impression if Mrs Cobblepot thought he’d kidnapped her son.

He kneels on the bed and shakes Oswald’s shoulder gently.

“Wha’?”

“Oswald, your mom is calling you.”

That makes Oswald sit bolt upright, taking the phone and hurriedly answering.

Ed perches on the edge of the bed, wondering if he should leave the room, but Oswald doesn’t seem bothered by his presence.

He hears a lot of screeching down the phone and Oswald spends the first few minutes trying to placate her.

“I don’t know mom, I’ll have to ask him.” Oswald glances at him. “I’ll be home tomorrow evening and I’ll talk to you about it then, okay? All right. Get some sleep. Sorry to have worried you. Love you too. Good night.”

Oswald ends the call and moves to get up to put his phone back but Ed takes it from him, saying, “here, let me.”

Oswald smiles gratefully. “Sorry about that. I completely spaced and forgot to let her know I wouldn’t be home tonight.”

“That’s okay, at least she’s not worried any more now. And by the way, ask me what?”

“Oh, she wants you to come over for dinner. You don’t have to, any time soon I mean. I can probably put it off for a bit.”

“No! I’d love to meet your mother.”

Oswald smiles. “Okay, well we can organise it tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“No,” Oswald says, crawling over to Ed. “I gave myself the day off so I could spend it doing this.” He climbs into Ed’s lap and gives him a slow, smouldering kiss.

Ed blinks a few times before regaining brain function. “You were _that_ confident huh? Cocky.” He smirks as he runs his hands up and down Oswald’s back.

“No, not really. I also wanted to give myself the day to wallow if it didn’t go well.”

Ed’s smile fades, his heart pained at the thought of Oswald spending the day alone and heartbroken. Ed suddenly puts one arm around his shoulders and the other under his good leg and lifts him over onto his back, attacking his mouth. He finds Oswald’s hands and presses him into the sheets, desperate to show Oswald how much he loves him.

Oswald responds in kind, flipping them over, pulling up Ed’s shirt and starting to kiss his way down Ed’s body. Ed threads his hands in Oswald’s hair as he continues to move lower and lower. So low in fact, that there’s very little question of what he intends to do.

He hovers above Ed’s crotch and looks up, saying, “is it okay if I...?”

“Me? Again?” Ed says, wondering where his brain to mouth filter has gone. “Don’t you want...? I mean, I can...”

Oswald smirks and lowers his lips to Ed’s clothed cock. “In the morning. Right now I want that taste I was promised.”

The vibrations from his voice go right through his cock and Ed whimpers. “Okay, well, if that’s what you want, I mean I don’t mind, I would like to – _oh_.” Ed is finally forced to cease his ramblings when Oswald envelopes his cock in his hot wet mouth. He automatically closes his eyes, moving his hands from Oswald’s hair to the sheets, not wanting to hurt him by tugging too hard.

Next thing he knows, that warmth is gone, and Oswald’s looking up at him, his hand having replaced his mouth, moving up and down slowly. “Aren’t you going to watch the show?’

Then he lowers his hand to the base and starts licking around the head. Ed can only whimper in response, propping himself on his elbows to watch Oswald worship the most intimate part of him. Ed doesn’t know how he’s supposed to watch this and last longer than a few minutes.

Then Oswald removes his hand and sucks him almost all the way down, all the while maintaining eye contact with Ed. _That_ is too much. He moans and flops back on the pillow, looking up at the outline of the light fixture in the darkness, desperately trying to focus on anything that will stop this being over in the next thirty seconds. What’s the material? What shape do the curves in the brass make? Curves. The curve of Oswald’s lips around his cock. _Darn_.

Oswald has hollowed out his cheeks and is creating the most delicious sensations as that talented mouth moves along his length.

How many light bulbs are there on the fitting? How many watts is it?

Oswald increases his speed. Ed tries not to buck up into his mouth. That _lip ring_. A whine escapes him.

How powerful a surge would it have to be for the light bulbs to explode?

Oswald starts fondling his balls and he can’t put it off any longer. “Oswald,” he says desperately, trying to warn him, he’s not really sure of the right etiquette in this situation. “You might want—I’m going to—”

But Oswald simply speeds up and holds Ed’s hips down as he starts coming down his throat. Lights do explode behind Ed’s eyelids in the darkness; the sensation of coming into that heat so good it’s almost unbearable.

He slumps, boneless, when it’s over. He was tired when they went to sleep before, now he’s beyond exhausted. He distantly registers Oswald gently pulling his pyjama bottoms back up.

He resumes his place at Ed’s side and pulls the covers up over them once more. Oswald leans up to kiss him before once again burrowing into his waist.

Ed takes off his glasses and puts them on the nightstand. Do they just go back to sleep now? He doesn’t want Oswald to think he’s rude or ungrateful. Especially after getting two more orgasms than Oswald’s had.

“That was amazing, Oswald. Thank you.”

Ed feels Oswald shaking beside him and realises he’s laughing.

Ed glances down, bemused. “What?”

“Nothing. Just, you’re welcome, Ed. Goodnight.”

Ed clearly missed something, but, he thinks, if Oswald’s happy, it doesn’t really matter.

“Goodnight.”

 

* * *

 

Oswald inevitably wakes up first, perks of working in hospitality. It’s only just becoming light out which tells him it’s probably some time between six and seven. Somehow he’s ended up facing the windows and Ed is curled around his back, his lips blowing air softly against his neck. Oswald smiles.

He lays there for a little while, listening to Ed’s slow breathing, enjoying the feeling of having Ed wrapped around him like a koala around a tree.

Eventually though, the stiffness in his leg forces him to move. He shifts on his back, trying not to disturb Ed. Unfortunately, he hears Ed murmur and knows the battle is lost.

“Times’it?” Ed asks, blinking one eye open, the other being smooshed in the pillow. He wonders if everything Ed does is painfully cute.

“It’s still stupid o’clock,” Oswald says. ‘Go back to sleep.”

“You sure? ‘M still so tired.”

 ****“I’m sure. Get some more rest. Do you mind if I go read in your library?”

“’Course not. Help yourself to coffee too. Might be some pastries and stuff somewhere…” And Oswald’s pretty sure he’s lost Ed to sleep again.

So Oswald hauls himself out of bed, toes on his shoes (he thinks it’s probably rude to go barefoot in a grand old house like this), and slips on his hoody over his pyjamas. He heads to the bathroom and after relieving himself, hunts for some deodorant. He opens the cabinet above the sink and finds one, also noting the row of fancy cologne bottles on the bottom shelf. He smirks, his boyfriend is a bit of a diva.

 _Boyfriend_. Is that what they are now? It seems a bit soon, but then what else could they possibly be?

He makes his way downstairs, guesses at where the kitchen was and gets the wrong door. He finds the living room though and knows he can get into the kitchen through there.

He fiddles a bit with the fancy coffee machine, slightly embarrassed that he can’t get it to work right away, given what he does for a living. Eventually the delicious smell starts to waft as he finally gets it to pour into the pot.

There are some pastries in a bowl in the middle of the island. It doesn’t count as not waiting for Ed to have breakfast if he just has one right? There’s a Danish there that’s calling his name.

Three pastries later, Oswald wanders through the hall, past the stairs to the library, coffee in hand.

The room looks even more beautiful by day, the rays of light streaming in through the high arch windows. He heads over to the aisle with the bird books, and when he stands in that spot again, he feels giddy as he thinks of their first kiss there the night before. He absently touches his lip, thinking of the way Ed teased at his lip ring. He feels desire coiling in his gut, and that won’t do, not here in the library. The place feels almost sacred. He gently slides the rare book he’s been desperate to look at off the shelf and wanders over to the far end of the room to find somewhere to sit.

He’s surprised to see there’s a fire going. He wonders if Polina lurks and anticipates every move of guests of the house? He picks a sofa by the fire, curls up in the corner nearest to it, and sighs happily at the warmth and the good effect it has on his leg. There’s a throw there too. He covers himself and sets the book in his lap, placing the coffee on the table beside him. _This_ is happiness. When he gets old, if he lives that long, this is how he wants to spend his days.

He’s not two pages in when he sees a dishevelled Ed wandering in (barefoot, he notes), blanket round his shoulders. He stops for a moment, taking in the scene before him, smiling down at Oswald.

“Um. Do you mind if I nap down here with you? It’s just. I don’t dream when I sleep with you. I mean—next to you.” He blushes. “It’s quiet in my head when you’re there. And it’s _wonderful_.”

Oswald smiles and pats the sofa next to him. Ed shuffles over, grabs a cushion and places it next to Oswald’s legs. He then curls up on his side next to Oswald, not much to be seen other than his hair splayed across the cushion. Oswald doesn’t resist the urge to wind his fingers into Ed’s hair and gently massage his scalp. Ed makes a little happy noise, so Oswald carries on soothing him while he turns his attention back to his book.

It’s a heavy burden to bear, he thinks, knowing that his boyfriend can’t get a peaceful night’s sleep without him there. Especially since their current living circumstances don’t permit them sleeping next to each other every night. But one day, if they make it that far together, perhaps they’ll share the same bed every night. Oswald finds himself smiling at the prospect.

 

* * *

 

Ed sleeps for another couple of hours. Oswald manages to go for a couple of coffee refills without incident, so he guesses Ed just needs Oswald to be there when he falls asleep, but should be all right after that.

“That coffee smells so good,” Ed says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Oswald places the book on the table and hands him the cup he’d not long poured for himself. Ed thanks him and takes a sip, humming happily as it clears away all the cobwebs. He lowers the cup and looks at Oswald. As the look becomes a stare, Oswald starts to get self-conscious.

“What?”

“You’re really here. With me.”

In the light of a new day, it does all seem a bit surreal. The feverish night before seems harder to believe without the cover of darkness, tiredness and desperation.

“Yes, this is happening.” He suddenly feels nervous and unsure how to proceed. Something much bigger than them is beginning to unfold and Oswald feels a bit dwarfed by the enormity of it all. He has the distinct feeling that he has no control over events to come, the big things that will shape their relationship, and their individual lives. It scares him.

“Are you okay?” Ed looks concerned. Oswald guesses some of his fear must be showing.

“I just—it’s a lot. This. It only really came into being for me three days ago. I guess I’m still processing.”

‘Are you sure that’s all?” Ed shuffles closer to him and takes one of his hands in his.

Oswald isn’t sure how much to reveal, this feels like a conversation for further down the road.

“I just—I have this feeling of foreboding I guess. Everything just feels so intense. I guess I’m a little scared, you know? Overwhelmed.”

Ed gets up, puts the coffee on the table and kneels between Oswald’s legs.

“You don’t think I’m scared too? I have this whole other person inside me that I can’t fully control. I’m scared of what’s going to happen in the future. I’m terrified of hurting you. I almost wish I could walk away so I know you’ll be safe.”

Pain tears through Oswald’s chest. “Don’t ever say that again.” He grabs Ed by the front of his shirt and drags him up to kiss him. The ferocity of feeling in his heart at the thought of Ed walking away makes him want to claim Ed with a violence he’s never felt before. He shoves Ed away from him. Maybe he’s as dangerous as Ed is.

They both stare at each other, breathing heavily.

“I knew from the first time I saw you that I would never be able to walk away,” Ed says sincerely, his voice low.

Oswald kisses him again, biting his lip but trying not to bite too hard. Ed moans and Oswald tilts his head so he can get in deeper and thoroughly own Ed’s mouth.

When Oswald has to physically pull away to breathe he says, “bedroom. _Now_. ****”

 

* * *

 

The first couple of times it was desperation, the third time Oswald couldn’t help himself. The fourth time it’s an affirmation. The daylight is streaming in through the windows, and there’s nothing to hide behind.

They hurry into the bedroom and Ed confidently takes his shirt off as he walks towards the bed; stopping just short and turning around to kiss Oswald. Oswald loves that Ed isn’t nervous about his body. Oswald takes off his own shirt and throws Ed onto the bed, Ed actually giving a small moan as he makes impact. One trait that’s quickly starting to take shape is that Ed likes Oswald taking charge. The thought of fully dominating Ed at some point is so arousing that he leans down to devour Ed’s mouth.

“Take off my pants,” he manages to say between kisses. Ed’s breath hitches and he stares up at Oswald, eyes wild, cheeks flushed, before scrambling to comply. Oswald lifts himself up to help before flopping on his back and taking them off the rest of the way himself. Ed throws them off the bed before turning to look at Oswald, fully naked in front of him for the first time.

Oswald knows he’s not a model. His leg is all messed up, and he likes food too much to be as skinny as Ed is. He’s a little bit squidgy around the middle, but he doesn’t mind. His job keeps him fit enough to avoid getting fat. He is what he is – Oswald is comfortable with the way he looks. But it still matters that Ed finds him attractive underneath all the baggy clothes he hides under. He tries to stop his breathing from coming out shaky as he watches Ed’s eyes rove over him.

“What...what would you like me to do?” Ed asks nervously, hunger in his eyes, tracing a hand lightly from Oswald’s chest down to his stomach.

Oswald keeps forgetting this is likely Ed’s first time with any of this. He sits up.

“Lay down,” Oswald says, quietly.

Ed looks momentarily confused. “But—”

He leans over so he can place a tender kiss on his lips. “Trust me.”

Ed nods and lays down without question and Oswald makes short work of taking Ed’s pants off. And then they’re naked, both staring at each other, everything seeming to fall into place. This is how it’s supposed to be.

“I want to feel your skin,” Ed says breathily.

Oswald lowers himself onto Ed, their cocks brushing as he does so, causing them both to moan. The feeling of skin-on-skin is amazing, electric. He wraps a hand around both of them, moving it slowly up and down.

Ed seems to choke on his own breath, and Oswald gives him a soft closed-mouth kiss. “Breathe. I’m going to make you feel so good, Ed.”

And changing his game entirely, he presses his tongue into Ed’s mouth, giving him the dirtiest kiss imaginable as he increases the pressure of his grip.

“Give me your hand,” Oswald says, and he guides it so that both their hands are wrapped around their cocks. Ed is finally touching him and he sees sparks burst behind his eyelids. He leans down to say into Ed’s ear, “do you like the way I feel?”

Ed’s hand stutters in its movements.“ _Yes_ ,” he grits out. “When I think about—I can’t—”

Oswald speeds up his hand and by default Ed’s, which is overlapping his slightly.

“When you think about what Ed?”

His head is flung back on the pillow, he’s panting and his cheeks are flushed. “When I think about you fucking me—”

Oswald unintentionally squeezes them tighter at the thought and moans right into Ed’s ear.

“Now I know how you feel in my hand, I want to know what you feel like inside me.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Oswald gasps before biting the bruise he’d previously made on Ed’s neck.

“I want you to come on me. Mark me. _Please_.”

Christ, Ed really is trying to kill him. And this is only day two.

Oswald takes his hand away, meaning Ed has to as well, and he whines, bereft. He puts two fingers to Ed’s mouth and instructs him to get them wet, Ed obediently opening it and sucking. Oswald watches, thinking this in itself is almost enough to get him there.

“Touch yourself and spread your legs.”

The colour of Ed’s cheeks darkens and he hesitatingly opens his legs and takes hold of his own cock.

Oswald places himself between Ed’s legs and starts probing at his hole with his middle and index fingers. He has no intention of going inside him just yet, he just wants to tease him with the idea. He wants to take his time unravelling each piece of Edward Nygma.

At the first touch of his fingers, Ed does a full body jolt. Oswald kisses the inside of Ed’s leg and says, “good?”

“ _Yes_ , please don’t stop.”

Oswald lowers his head and adds his tongue to the play of his fingers, lapping at the rim as his fingers gently push at the hole. The noises Ed keeps making have made Oswald leak a ridiculous amount of pre-come, he can feel it in the sheets.

Leaning back up, Oswald watches as Ed’s movements on his cock get more frantic, it won’t take long now. As mind-blowingly hot as it is watching Ed like this, he wants to _feel_ Ed come.

“Stop.” He says softly, leaning over Ed’s cock. He takes Ed’s hand away, pinning it to the bed, and Ed looks down, eyes pleading, his hand under Oswald’s.

“Are you ready?” Oswald says, smiling. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he swallows Ed down. Ed is shouting, and Oswald only manages to bob his head once before Ed is coming down his throat, his moan so loud it’s almost a scream, echoing off the walls. The maid will have definitely heard that.

He takes his fingers away from Ed’s hole and allows his cock to slip from his mouth. He crawls up Ed’s body and leans down to kiss him, despite his trying to catch his breath. He wraps a hand around himself, moaning against Ed’s lips at the long needed friction. Ed blinks open his eyes and looks down before surging up and kissing Oswald with everything he’s got. He feels nails on his scalp as Ed grabs at his hair; Oswald’s hand on his cock speeds up. When Ed tugs on the lip ring with his teeth at the same moment he rubs a thumb over the slit, he cries out and comes all over Ed’s stomach and chest.

Completely exhausted, he only just manages to flop on his back by Ed’s side, rather than down onto the mess.

Once Oswald has recovered his breath, he looks over at Ed, who seems to be staring up at the ceiling in wonderment. Oswald wants to say something about what just happened, about how amazing it feels to take Ed apart like this. He wants to tell him how he wants to spend hours with Ed writhing beneath him as he repeatedly brings him to the edge. He wants Ed to know that Oswald doesn’t even need to be touched because he can get off on Ed’s reactions. But somehow he can’t put any of it into words, and despite the fact he’s naked and Ed’s covered in his come, he feels shy about telling Ed how he feels. Maybe when they’ve been together longer, he’ll get better at communicating. He settles for taking one of Ed’s hands in his and bringing it to his mouth, kissing it softly. Ed turns his head to look at him, and the warmth and affection in his eyes bowls Oswald over. If what he sees in Ed’s eyes is reflected in his own, perhaps they don’t need to say anything at all.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Oswald asks after a while, starting to plant light kisses across the back of Ed’s hand again.

“That’s okay, you can go first.”

“No, I mean, do you want to take a shower together?”

Ed’s lips part slowly as the realisation dawns. “Yes I do.”

“Come on then,” Oswald says, sitting up and giving Ed’s arm a little tug.

Oswald heads over to the en suite, peering over his shoulder to see Ed watching him, a devious grin on his face. Oswald smirks at the thought of Ed openly gazing at his body as he gets into the shower and turns on the water. The pressure and temperature are amazing and Oswald leans his hands on the wall so the power of the water can soothe his back. He hears Ed step in behind him, popping the cap of a bottle open and placing it back in the holder. Next thing Oswald knows, there are strong hands pressing firmly into his back and shoulders, massaging the shower gel in soothing movements. He tries and fails to bite back a moan. Ed’s hands are working wonders on his aching muscles. Ed is smart, unbelievably hot _and_ apparently has the hands of a masseuse. How did Oswald get so lucky?

When Ed pours more shower gel into his hand and moves onto his lower back, Oswald leans his forehead on his arm, concentrating on keeping his breathing even. Ed is making him feel so good; his thoughts start to stray and he wishes Ed would just move those hands lower…

“Hey, you still with me?” Ed says right next to his ear. Oswald turns around, feeling dazed.

“Good?” Ed says, though he’s smirking like he knows the answer. Oswald throws his arms around Ed’s shoulders and kisses him under the water, their lips sliding together deliciously.

Leaning out of the stream, Oswald says, “you made a mistake letting me know you can do that,” Oswald picks up the shower gel and squeezes some into his hand.

“I’m not free you know,” Ed grins.

Oswald starts rubbing the gel in circles on Ed’s chest. “Oh I’m sure we could come to an _arrangement_.” He smooths his thumbs over each of Ed’s nipples and raises an eyebrow.

Too aroused to continue their charade, Ed surges forward, his kiss muffling the musical sound of Oswald’s laughter. He puts his arms around Ed’s shoulders again and gets lost in the warmth and relaxing feel of the water, as his Ed reignites the fire which doesn’t look like it’s going to burn out any time soon.

 

* * *

 

“Do you have any classes today?” Oswald asks, wrapping his hands around the cup of tea that Ed hands him. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, forbidden from helping.

“Just one at five. Don’t need to leave until a couple of hours before then. I could drop you off at home on my way to campus if you want.”

“It’s not really on the way as I live on the other side of the city, but I would appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Ed smiles, flitting about here and there as he prepares their brunch. It’s far too late to call it breakfast. It had taken them a very long time to get out of the shower.

Ed serves them a couple of mountains of chocolate chip pancakes, and Oswald is almost salivating at the smell.

“Being with you is going to make me really fat,” Oswald half-heartedly grumbles. “You’re not going to love fat Oswald.”

“Society has a really skewed view of what beauty is,” Ed says, completely seriously, as he covers his pancakes in maple syrup. “It’s all media brainwashing. Looks don’t matter; at least they shouldn’t. Youth fades. You can’t fall in love with a person based on their looks. The one thing that stays the same is who they are – that’s what’s beautiful, their mind, their individuality, and that’s what you fall in love with. I love _you_ , not what you look like.”

Oswald simply blinks at this speech, fork halfway to his mouth. Ed blushes and picks up his cutlery, suddenly very invested in his food.

Ed is a hopeless romantic and Oswald smiles at him, both endeared and amused, as Ed avoids his eyes.

“So, what made you come into the café if it wasn’t the way I look? Did you really just want to study?”

Ed swallows his mouthful and bites his lip sheepishly, clearly realising the flaw in his speech. “Okay so I do find you very attractive, but that on its own isn’t enough for me. I was attracted to you because you look different and you intrigued me. It made me want to see what was inside.”

“I hope you mean figuratively,” Oswald says, remembering Ed’s speech about wanting to get into forensic science so he could cut open bodies.

Ed licks his knife clean in an exaggerated manner and winks. “Of course.”

Oswald chuckles and continues on without thinking. “Well I’m glad you’re okay with me being fat. It’s a very real possibility one day because I eat way too much.”

Oswald realises the implications of what he’s said immediately after he says it. He looks up from his plate and finds Ed smiling at him shyly. It’s a mystery how Ed can still pull the shy thing off after making a joke about prodding at his innards.

Eager to steer them away from his casually referencing them still being together years into the future, Oswald says, “so, what night is best for you to come over for dinner?”

Ed looks like he wants to say something more on their previous topic for a moment, before changing his demeanour to match Oswald’s.

“Um, how about Friday night?”

“Okay, I’ll ask mom and I’ll text you about it. Which reminds me, we need to swap numbers.”

He gets his phone out of his pocket as Ed does the same. It strikes him as funny that after everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, they’re only _now_ exchanging numbers.

As if reading his thoughts, Ed says, “we never do anything in the right order do we?”

“Order is boring,” Oswald says, leaning across the table to kiss Ed. “I’m ready for a little chaos.”

 

* * *

 

Oswald isn’t nervous about Ed meeting his mother. He's confident that with Ed's manners and Gertrud's determination to love anything that Oswald does he knows the chances of this being a disaster are pretty slim. 

The one thing he is nervous about is his apartment. Oswald and his mother have only recently really just been able to start living comfortably with his promotion, but the place is still very much inferior to the imposing grandeur of Ed's family home. But it's homey and comfortable which is something Ed's house isn't, outside of Ed's room anyway. 

He can tell Ed is nervous. He’s constantly been pestering Oswald about what flowers she likes or what part of Hungary she comes from or what else he should bring to dinner. Oswald tells him flowers or chocolates will be fine but that doesn’t seem to be enough for Ed who becomes more panicked as Friday evening gets closer. 

Oswald told Ed to show up at seven, so naturally Ed is being buzzed into the building at 6:55. When Oswald answers the door, he’s amused to see Ed smiling nervously, bunch of flowers in one hand and a box tied with a bow in the other (oh boy he’s overdone it). He’s wearing his usual ensemble of sweater, shirt, tie, jeans and chucks but he's added a blazer instead of a coat to make it smarter. The blazer is black and purple tartan and Oswald really likes it. 

Oswald steps back to allow Ed to enter. He looks around, and not seeing Gertrud, he leans down to kiss Oswald. He pulls back quickly; this isn’t the place to really express their desire for each other, but Oswald chases Ed’s lips nonetheless, still unable to believe that he’s free to do this. Ed smiles down at him with such affection that Oswald’s heart skips a beat. In the corner of his eye he notices movement and realises that his mom is standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a fond look on her face. He turns to her and notices Ed move jerkily in his peripheral vision. 

“Mom, this is Edward.” 

Gertrud is about to say something but Edward moves forward too fast, holding his hand out, saying, “Frau Kapelput, guten abend!” And then he launches into a torrent of German that even Oswald doesn't understand. He wonders if he made a mistake telling Ed that German was one of his mothers languages. He had no idea Ed could even speak German. He watches Ed talk and wave his arms about expressively before going silent. Gertrud looks completely taken aback and Oswald thinks everything is about to go sideways because Ed has done too much. Ed's hand hangs awkwardly in the air.

But eventually, with tears in her eyes, she gathers herself and replies to him in German and this, Oswald understands: 

“My darling Edward, you are always welcome here.” And she pulls him in for a hug. 

Tension he didn't know was holding him rigid eases out of him. She says something in Ed's ear that only he can hear. Then he hands her the flowers and the box which turns out to be Hungarian chocolate and she hugs Ed again before gesturing into the living room (which also houses their dining table).

Dinner ends up being really rather enjoyable. Oswald tells stories about nightmare customers at the café, Ed talks about his studies and aspirations. Gertrud tells Ed all about where she comes from and how much she misses it, and how important the Eastern European community in Gotham is to her. Ed listens attentively; he knows he’s genuinely interested and is saving all this information – not because he wants to use it to his advantage, but because he considers her important enough to know. He can tell his mother is reveling in his questions and all the attention she is being given. Oswald and his mother have that in common: they love to talk about themselves.

When it gets late, Ed says he should get going, but Gertrud won’t have any of it.

“You can stay here!”

Ed looks at him, seemingly as shocked as he is.

“But leave the door open. I may be old, but I’m not stupid.”

Ed sniggers. Oswald’s mouth hangs open, aghast, shocked that his mother would say such a thing.

“All right well goodnight mom.” Oswald says, eager to end _this_ conversation.

“Goodnight Mrs Kapelput,” Ed adds.

“Goodnight my boys! Sleep well, Edward.” Gertrud says happily, before heading into her own bedroom.

 

* * *

 

“Are you wearing boxers?”

Ed snorts. “Yes Oswald, I am wearing underwear.”

“It’s just I don’t have pajama bottoms that will fit you. So you’ll have to make do with one of my shirts.”

“That’s fine. T-shirt and boxers is pretty conservative I think.” Ed says, absently. He’s too distracted by the fact he’s in Oswald’s room, among Oswald’s things. He starts changing for bed, while looking around at the walls, cataloguing the details. There are some prints, probably from _National Geographic_ or something similar, of birds in flight, that are quite frankly stunning. He can see why Oswald chose these particular ones. On the nightstand, beside the book Ed gave him, is a framed photograph. Once he’s changed into Oswald’s threadbare night shirt, he picks it up for closer inspection.

The child in the photo is blonde and chubby and looks so different to the Oswald here with him now. But he can tell it’s him, from his bright frosty-dawn blue eyes and the line of his nose. His mother has a classical painting type of beauty. It’s a mystery that she lives only with Oswald. He wonders what happened to Oswald’s father. He’s not going to ruin the night and ask though. Oswald will tell him when he’s ready, just like Ed will tell him about his parents.

Oswald comes up behind him. “Yup, blonde.”

“You’re so adorable,” Ed grins, putting the photo back down.

“You mean _were_. I’m an asshole now.”

“Nope. I still think you’re adorable. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” He leans down and gives Oswald a fond kiss. He hasn’t quite lost that look in his eye that says he still can’t believe that they can do this now.

Oswald shakes his head and turns off the light. “Come to bed you dork.”

Oswald gets into the single bed and faces away from him, and Ed takes his glasses off before getting in behind him and pulling the covers up over them. He wraps the arm he’s not leaning on around Oswald, flinging a leg over his too. He presses his lips to the back of Oswald’s neck and places some feather-light kisses there as he slides a hand up Oswald’s shirt. He feels him shudder under his hands.

“Woah there, remember the open door?” Oswald says very quietly.

“I’m not going to do anything. I’m just touching you. I haven’t been able to touch you _all_ day. That’s _far_ too long.”

Oswald turns his head to smile, pleased with the praise, at Ed. Ed leans up, and they kiss languidly as his hands roam across Oswald’s chest.

“Okay, okay we have to sleep now,” Oswald says, though he sounds amused. Probably because of Ed’s erection pressing into his behind. Ed sighs as Oswald turns his head away from him again. He moves his hand from under Oswald’s shirt and places it over the top of his clothes instead.

“You’re coming back to my house tomorrow night right?”

Instead of responding, Oswald pushes his ass back against Ed’s cock. Ed gasps and automatically pushes back.

“Oh god, maybe I should sleep on the couch,” Ed whispers. After 24 hours without Oswald, he doesn’t think he can be this close to him and not want him desperately.

“Okay I’m sorry,” Oswald says through muffled laughter. “I’ll stop now. And yes, I will come home with you tomorrow night. You can come and meet me from work.”

“Yay,” Ed says, settling down and closing his eyes.

They’re quiet for a while, and Ed listens to Oswald’s breathing slowing down.

“Thank you for today, Ed,” Oswald murmurs, putting his hand over Ed’s. “You made my mom really happy.”

Ed smiles into the back of Oswald’s neck. “She is extraordinary. As are you.”

Oswald simply squeezes his hand and eventually Ed drifts off to sleep, content to have Oswald not only next to him, but all around him.

 

* * *

 

The following evening, Fish Mooney is sitting in the office of her flagship club going through paperwork, when she happens to glance at the security feed from the university café. That dangerous tall boy has just walked in, and he goes straight up to Oswald, who’s arranging up-sell items on the counter, turns him around and kisses him. He backs him into the counter, and this make-out session doesn’t look like it’s going to stay PG for long. Lips quirking in amusement, Fish picks up her phone and dials, keeping her eyes on the screen.

She watches as Oswald breaks away from Ed and fumbles in his pocket for his phone. When he sees who’s calling, a very satisfying look of fear comes over his face.

“Hello?” Oswald says, nerves clear in just that one word.

“Good evening Oswald,” she says slowly. “As happy as I am that you and that tall drink of water have finally worked out your teenage drama, I must inform you that if you… _contaminate_ any of the surfaces of my property, I will be forced to fire you. My congratulations to you both.”

She hangs up the phone and watches as Oswald looks around in vain for cameras, shocked and panicked. She leans back in her chair and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! Thank you for your lovely comments. Your feedback has meant the world to me, it really has. I'm not sure when I'll be posting the final chapter as I'm going to be away for a bit, but hopefully in time for Christmas. Who doesn't want first time shenanigans for Christmas? Much love <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I overshot my self-imposed Christmas deadline by quite a lot. The good news though (at least I hope it's good news XD) is that the story has gained a chapter as there ended up being too much to get through in one last chapter. Totally doesn't have anything to do with me not wanting to let this verse go, nope.
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Ed comes back to the dorm after presumably finally getting together with Oswald, Jim is sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, struggling with his mid-term paper. He looks up as Ed dumps his bag, takes off his coat and drops onto the bed, sighing happily.

“I take it you two worked things out then,” Jim says. Ed turns to look at him, and he can tell from the dreamy look on his face that they did. The fact he didn’t come home for the previous night kind of speaks for itself. Ed sits up, and Jim gets a glimpse of a rather prominent hickey mostly hidden by the collar of his shirt.

“I didn’t know anything could feel this good,” Ed says, wonder in his eyes. “I mean, I’ve been happy in my life, especially since I moved out. But this, it’s—wow.” He gets up and comes over to sit by Jim, their legs touching. Once Ed became comfortable with touch, he never did have any boundaries with Jim.

“I’m happy for you, Ed.” Jim says, and he is. Mostly.

“Thank you.” Ed says, leaning his head on Jim’s shoulder. Jim has been dreading this ever since it looked like Ed and Oswald would finally get together. He’d known he was going to have to talk to Ed about boundaries. If Oswald saw them sitting together like this, he would hit the roof.

“Ed, I don’t really think it’s okay for us to do this anymore.”

Ed sits upright again and looks confused.

“It’s not really normal behaviour for friends. This, you leaning your head on my shoulder. The hugging, all the touching. Friends don’t usually do that especially if one of them is in a relationship.”

“Oh.” Ed says, picking intently at lint on his trousers. He suddenly looks up and says, “but you’ve been with Barbara this whole time.”

“Yes, but I know that Barbara is also seeing Tabitha, though she doesn’t know that I know. Or maybe she does and she doesn’t care. Either way, it’s probably going to end soon.”

“I’m sorry,” is all Ed says, as he shuffles away from Jim on the bed, so they’re no longer touching. That hurts Jim, even though he was the one who made it so. “I didn’t know this wasn’t normal for friends. I’m sorry.”

And what really sucks is that Ed’s hurt expression makes him want to gather him up in his arms to make him feel better. Jim feels like an asshole; Ed was so happy when first came back to the room. But Jim is just trying to do the right thing; something which usually ends with someone getting hurt.

Ed gets up and crosses his side of the room. Jim sighs.

“Ed, how are you going to help me with this paper over there?”

Ed turns around and bites his bottom lip uncertainly, but he doesn’t move towards him. Jim throws his books and papers onto the bed and gets up, walks over, and pulls Ed into a hug. Ed doesn’t hug him back right away

“Jim, you just said—”

“The odd hug now and then is okay. This will be the last time I hug you like this though.” Jim hugs Ed tightly to him—he can’t help himself—and closes his eyes. He seems to keep having these goodbyes with Ed, and he hates it. Ed holds him back just as tight. Jim pulls back and presses his forehead against Ed’s. He’s not going to be this close to Ed again. Their friendship has always been a little abnormal; it adapted around Ed’s mental illness, it had to. But Jim has never resented being the one who took care of Ed. It does seem odd, however, that he’s stepping down so his ex-boyfriend can take his place. He thinks, not for the first time in the last few weeks, that life is strange, the way it works out. But at least he knows the person stepping up to the mantle is more than capable of handling it. Oswald is fiercely loyal and he knows he’ll give a hundred per cent of himself with regards to Ed’s happiness. That’s what really matters. That Ed is happy. That _they_ are happy _together_.

“Now, do you have some time to help me fool my professors into thinking I’m smart?” Jim says, patting Ed’s shoulder and trying to get them back to a lighter mood.

Ed smiles as they sit back down on Jim’s bed. “I’ll always have time for you, Jim.”

Ed is so naïve. But he means well. Jim knows that in reality when they finish college in a year or so, they’ll gradually lose touch as they build their own lives. Friendships change, people drift apart, new relationships overshadow old ones. Ed’s unfailing positivity is one of the many reasons that Jim will miss him.

 

* * *

 

_Three weeks later_

Oswald drops his books with a loud thunk on the table next to Ed. It had taken Oswald a long time to locate him, he should have realised a lot faster that Ed would find the quietest, dingiest, most secluded corner of the entire university library.

Ed automatically says ‘shh’ but as soon as he looks up and realises who it is, his eyes widen in surprise before grinning at him. Oswald grins back as he takes the chair next to him and pulls it closer to Ed, close enough that their legs are touching.

“What are you doing?” Ed whispers.

“Studying,” Oswald responds with a wink. He picks the book from the top of the pile and places it in front of himself, opening it on one of the pages marked with a sticky note.

“But I thought you were working until ten.”

“I finished early so I could come and surprise _you_ for a change.”

Ed smiles, pleased and incredulous. He still hasn’t gotten used to Oswald wanting to do nice things for him simply because he wants to. Oswald squeezes his leg affectionately before turning his attention back to his book and placing his elbows on the table.

“Oswald, I—”

“Shh Ed, I’m trying to study,” he reprimands, although he’s smirking.

Ed looks down at his own notes and books and says, mock haughtily, “oh, _okay_ then.”

A short while later, when he’s sure Ed has entered his study headspace, Oswald turns his head on his hand minutely so he can stare at Ed. He’s worrying at his bottom lip again; his teeth on his bottom lip make Oswald think of other times when _he’s_ been the one to make Ed do that. Head thrown back, lip bitten to stifle the moans as Oswald draws out his torture. Oswald is getting hard as he thinks about it; watches Ed release his lip, so dark and soft and ready to be kissed and abused further. He quietly shoves the chair backwards slightly, so he’s sitting half behind Ed, and leans around to kiss Ed’s neck. He starts to run a hand up the inside of Ed’s leg. Ed’s breath hitches.

“What are you doing?” Ed whispers. “We can’t do this here, this is a lib—”

“Hush Ed, no talking in the library.” Oswald whispers in his ear. Ed inhales sharply.

He puts one arm around the back of Ed’s chair and lifts the other to take hold of Ed’s jaw, so he can control their kiss. He tugs at Ed’s bottom lip with his thumb, darting it inside and then chasing it with his tongue. Oswald slides his tongue into his mouth, stroking over Ed’s but retreats before Ed can really reciprocate. He turns his attention to the inside of his leg, fingers slowly gliding up to Ed’s crotch, and he can feel that despite his verbal protests, Ed is definitely interested in this. He rubs the palm of his hand over the bulge and Ed leans his arms forward on the desk, already struggling to control his breathing.

He starts to unzip Ed’s fly, all the while mouthing at Ed’s neck. Ed frantically looks behind them, but there’s no one there. Directly behind them is a long bookshelf, blocking the rest of the library from seeing them. But if someone were to come in search of these particular books…

“Don’t worry, no one will see us,” Oswald murmurs, “so long as you stay quiet.” He shoves his hand into Ed’s pants and wraps it around his cock.

Ed, panting, snaps the pencil in his hand in half and bites into the back of his palm to avoid making any noise.

“ _That’s it_.” Oswald whispers soothingly, as he moves his palm slowly over Ed’s cock. Ed jumps slightly when he hears a chair creak in the main room on the other side of the book shelf. Oswald is a little nervous about what he plans to say next, but from what he knows about Ed already, he’s almost certain Ed will enjoy it. He leans up to whisper into Ed’s ear. “Imagine if someone were to see you like this, so hard for me, so desperate,” His hand picks up the pace slightly. “What if I had you against that bookshelf, hm? What if I had my fingers inside you, my other hand on your dick? Fucking you with my fingers, just the way you like it?”

Ed flings his head back, only to lean forward again, failing to completely stifle a moan, prompting him to put his hand over his mouth. Oswald’s cock throbs in his pants.

“What if someone saw you all needy and begging me to take you? They would know that I’m the only one who can give you what you need…” He feels Ed’s cock pulse in his hand. He’s close already. “You belong to _me_ , Ed. And everyone should know that.”

A small whimper escapes Ed through the fingers covering his mouth. Oswald nips at his ear lobe, leaving Ed a shivering mess as he quietly leans back in his chair and then manoeuvres himself under the table, crawling between Ed’s legs and holding his flies and underwear down, enough that he can get his mouth around Ed’s cock. Sinking down slowly, he can hear Ed’s laboured breathing as he swirls his tongue around his length, barely restraining the urge to moan around it.

It’s then that he hears footsteps; someone is approaching the bookshelf near them. Oswald stops his movements. He can hear Ed panicking and scrambling to look normal, like his boyfriend doesn’t have his cock in his mouth under the table. Oswald can see someone’s legs in his peripheral vision. They don’t stop or turn towards them, they merely carry on browsing. They take seemingly _hours_ to browse the titles in that section, and tired of waiting, Oswald starts to move up and down again. Edward’s hand appears under the table, groping around for Oswald, and Oswald thinks he’s going to try and push him off, but he rubs a thumb over his cheek before winding his fingers into Oswald’s hair and _encouraging_ him to go faster. Fuck, Ed _wants_ him to make him come while there’s someone standing close by. Oswald’s own cock is straining uncomfortably against his pants.

He speeds up, Ed’s hands tightening painfully in his hair, signalling Ed’s release. Ed bucks his hips minutely, and Oswald sucks him down all the way to the base, letting him fuck his throat as he comes, Oswald swallowing all of it down. Oswald regrets being unable to see Ed trying to control himself and maintain his silence, wondering what sort of state he’s in above the desk. Somehow, Ed doesn’t make a sound through any of it, and Oswald licks up the last drops before tucking him away and refastening his fly. He leans around Ed’s legs under the table so he can see the person nearby. They’re right at the end of the aisle, flicking through a book, hopefully they will move on soon. Oswald is getting uncomfortable on his knees; his bad leg is starting to throb quite painfully.

Finally their unwitting voyeur walks around to the next aisle, and Oswald crawls out from under the table, retaking his seat next to Ed. He’s satisfied to note Ed’s flushed cheeks and the fact he’s still panting, both his elbows on the desk and hands in his hair. His lips have been bitten raw. Oswald puts a hand on Ed’s knee, and Ed turns to him with such a suddenness that he retracts it. He looks…angry? Is Ed mad at him for this? Has Oswald read him completely wrong?

He hastily starts to pack away his things, not bothering to put pencils and pens in their right cases, just shoving it all into his bag. Oswald gathers his books to his chest and follows Ed out of the library trying to keep up. As they pass the information desk, a blonde lady gives them a strange look.

Outside, Ed picks up the pace even more and Oswald struggles to keep up. He follows Ed across the campus to the parking lot, where Ed makes a beeline for his mustang, one of only three cars there. He throws his bag in the trunk and takes Oswald’s books from him and throws them in too. He closes the door and then grabs Oswald, shoves him into the side of the car and leans in to kiss him roughly.

Oh, Ed’s _that_ type of angry. Oswald can work with that.

“Ed, it’s fucking cold out here, let’s get in the car.”

Ed finally stops ravaging his lips, pulling at his lip ring as he steps back. He opens the passenger door and gestures for Oswald to get inside.

“Push the seat back as far as it will go,” Ed says. Oswald fumbles under the seat for the lever and does as Ed says. Ed then clambers in and kneels in the small space between Oswald’s legs and the front of the car. He undoes Oswald’s pants and pulls them and his underwear down; Oswald lifting his hips to give Ed better access.

Ed hasn’t given him a blowjob yet; usually Oswald gets Ed off and then Ed wants to reciprocate but often Oswald is in pain by that point from excessive pressure on his leg. Oswald also wants Ed to know there’s no pressure to do anything he might not be ready for, aware that this is likely Ed’s first time with any of this. However, it seems like Edward is ready now, given the hunger in his eyes as he stares at Oswald’s cock. His gaze flits up to meet Oswald’s.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he says as he places kisses along the shaft. Ed’s soft lips kissing him _there_ is setting all his nerve endings on fire.

Oswald grabs the top of the driver’s seat, his other flailing about for something to hold onto. “What you’re doing now is pretty great,” he manages, his voice cracking embarrassingly. His hand lands in Ed’s hair. Ed closes his eyes and pushes into Oswald’s hand, almost like a cat. When he opens his eyes again, they look dark and full of intent. He leans closer and starts lapping at the head, keeping his eyes on Oswald’s.

“How about this?”

“Also good.” Oswald responds, voice very low; his hand tightening its grip on Ed’s hair. Just the sight of Ed’s dark lips near his cock is enough to drive him crazy; but to actually have his mouth _on_ him…Oswald wonders how long he will last, especially after how hot Ed was in the library. Ed flicks his tongue across the slit and it’s like lightning bolts of pleasure surging through him—and Ed’s own blissed out expression—how much he’s enjoying this, makes it feel even more intense.

Oswald could probably come just from this, but it seems Ed has other plans for him. He carries on with the merciless flicking of his tongue, but starts to fondle his balls as well, his touch light and gentle.

“ _Ed_ ,”Oswald moans, arching his back.

But then Ed’s hands and mouth are gone and Oswald opens his eyes to see Ed staring at him, lips parted, gaze intense.

“I like it when you say my name like that.”

He leans backwards on his knees and lowers a hand down his body slowly, before palming himself through his jeans. He’s hard again? _Already?_ Ed holds his gaze the entire time, as he openly touches himself in front of Oswald. He’s never done that before. When Ed lets out a small moan, Oswald thinks his brain is going to short circuit. Ed presses the palm of his hand harder over the outline of his cock, placing the other on Oswald’s knee for balance.

“ _Oswald_ ,” Ed moans breathily. Oswald feels his cock jerk at the sight of Ed touching himself and moaning his name, and he doesn’t know how much more of this he can stand without coming embarrassingly quickly.

“Ed, _please_ ,” he hears himself saying.

Ed leans forward and kisses him, while wrapping a hand around Oswald’s cock, his movements slow and teasing. Oswald runs his hands up the back of Ed’s shirt, digging his nails into his shoulder blades. Ed thrusts his tongue into Oswald’s mouth, his moaning shameless and desperate. His hand maintains its torturously slow pace and Oswald’s frustration is reaching boiling point; his nails dig in deeper. He _needs_ to come, he _needs_ Ed to relieve the pressure before he goes out of his mind.

“I need _more_ , Ed,” Oswald manages to gasp when Edward finally pulls back to breathe. He looks dazed, wild, pupils completely blown.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he says again.

“Make me come, please make me come.”

“How do you want me to make you come?” Ed asks, undoing his own pants and freeing his erection.

Oswald is mesmerised by Ed’s exhibitionism, thinking if this becomes a regular thing, it might kill him.

“Tell me _how_ , Oswald,” he says, voice breathy.

Oswald tries to find coherence. “Suck me off. I want to feel your mouth...”

Before he can finish, Ed has a hand around the base and is swallowing him down. No teeth, just amazing warmth and wetness and relentless swirling of his tongue. He hollows out his cheeks and really goes for it, giving special attention to the tip each time he moves up. The sudden heat is intoxicating, as is how much Ed is putting into this, all to please him. Oswald has never felt anything so incredible, Ed’s desire for him is the most heady rush.

And then Oswald notices Ed’s hand working his own dick, movements hurried and jerky. Oswald can hardly believe that Ed is so turned on by this that he’s getting himself off, it’s so _unbelievably_ hot. The tongue relentlessly swirling around his cock is electrifying, and Oswald can feel his orgasm building. Ed moans loudly around him, the vibrations proving one sensation too many. He tries to warn Ed, but Ed’s got the situation under control. He finally comes, the feeling so intense he throws his head back in a silent scream, as pulse after pulse of pleasure washes over him. Ed swallows almost expertly, but he pulls off a little too early, the last of Oswald’s come coating his lips.

Oswald slumps, panting, tiredness overwhelming nearly all of his senses. He cracks open his eyes to see Ed still jerking himself off, his eyes on Oswald, who’s sweaty and panting. There’s no way Oswald can get it up again tonight, but watching Ed like this is still insanely hot. He leans forward to grab Ed’s shirt, pulling him up to kiss him. He licks away his come and kiss-walks down his neck as Ed’s breaths become increasingly ragged. But when Oswald runs his hands up the back of Ed’s shirt as he starts to suck a love bite into the curve of his neck, Ed comes undone. Oswald leans back so he can watch Ed’s face this time; Ed moans Oswald’s name against his lips, and it’s so reverent that Oswald grips him tighter.

He pulls Ed against him so that his head is on his chest. It’s not the most comfortable of arrangements, but they need to rest for a little while after _that_. He plants a kiss in Ed’s hair, idly stroking the nape of his neck, listening to his breathing calming down. All the windows are steamed up, and he dimly notices a question mark in the window next to the driver’s seat.

“I should get going,” Oswald says regretfully. “I have to be at the café at five in the morning.”

He doesn’t relish the thought of the bus and subway journey it takes for him to get home to his apartment. Glancing at the time on his phone he’s really going to have to book it to make the last bus. He just doesn’t have the energy right now. He could sleep where he is.

“Do you want to stay at the dorm?” Ed asks, raising his head sleepily.

Oswald’s never stayed over in Ed’s dorm room. He figures it’s too strange, given the situation with Jim. He doesn’t want to ruin their tentative civility by pushing things too far.

“I just don’t want it to be weird for anyone,” Oswald says honestly.

“It wouldn’t be weird if you just slept there. And you’ll be gone so early I doubt it will be awkward.”

It _would_ be nice to just be able to stroll across campus to work. And he could sleep in a little longer because he wouldn’t have to allow time for the commute.

“All right, just don’t let me forget to text my mom.”

“Roger that,” Ed says, sleepily reaching for the box of tissues wedged into the door pocket.

 

* * *

 

“Was it okay?” Ed asks, shuffling closer to Oswald. They’re in his tiny dorm bed, laying on their sides, facing each other.

“Hmm?” Oswald asks, sleepily.

“In the car. I... Was it okay?”

Oswald squints at him in the darkness and Ed looks incredibly vulnerable, even more so without his glasses. He pulls Ed closer to him.

“It was amazing,” Oswald says, giving him a quick kiss.

“Oh good,” Ed says, relieved. “I read that using multiple stimuli is the most effective way to achieve orgasm.”

Oswald tries not to laugh. “Oh, Ed, it gets me so hot when you talk about multiple stimuli like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Everything about you is insanely hot.” He kisses Ed again as he runs his hands up the back of Ed’s shirt. He _loves_ tracing his fingers along the elegant lines of his back. Ed shivers under his hands. Ed’s fingers wind into his hair and their hands rove soothingly over each other. There’s no urgency to their touches, and Oswald feels more and more relaxed.

“I love you,” he murmurs against Ed’s lips. He feels Ed smile.

“I love you too.”

They spend a while sharing lazy, tender kisses in the darkness until Oswald feels like he physically can’t stay awake anymore.

“I need to sleep, Ed.”

“Okay.” Ed gives Oswald one last kiss before rolling over and shuffling backwards towards Oswald so he’s curled around Ed. Oswald snakes his arm around Ed’s middle, discovering bare skin where his shirt is rucked up. He soothes his thumb over the skin until he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

Jim returns late that night after drinks with Harvey. He uses the flashlight on his phone so he doesn’t turn the main light on and disturb Ed, but he notices something a bit different when the light passes over Ed’s bed. He covers the light with his hand so it doesn’t wake them. His eyes adjust to the darkness and the light from the hallway provides enough illumination for him to make out that Ed is not alone in his bed.

Behind Ed is Oswald, and even if he couldn’t see that black tuft of hair, he’d know it was him from the myriad of rings and bracelets he seems to have forgotten to take off. His arm is wrapped protectively around Ed’s middle, effectively making Ed the little spoon, which makes Jim smile, considering how tall Ed is.

He can’t help the pang of jealousy he feels at seeing how peaceful they look together. As he stares at them, it strikes him again how odd the connection that both Oswald and Ed have to him is; it does feel fated somehow. He hopes he finds that for himself one day; he certainly hasn’t found it in his train wreck of a relationship with Barbara. When he finally leaves the university, and his parents’ house, he’ll start anew. He’ll make a clean break, and leave all the drama behind.

Deciding that his staring is veering into creepy territory, he turns around and uses the flashlight to navigate through the clothes he’s left on the floor to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Ed comes to see Oswald the following afternoon, after the lunchtime rush. Victor is out front cleaning the tables and Oswald is behind the counter restocking take away cups, when Ed walks in.

“Hey, Victor,” Ed says as he approaches the counter.

“What’s up Ed?” Victor replies, quirking his lips in his equivalent of a smile.

“Oh, not much, my classes today were all really dull. Professor—”

“It’s a rhetorical question, Ed,” Oswald says gently. Ed is really trying hard to be friendly with Victor and Ivy and it’s incredibly endearing.

“Oh,” Ed smiles apologetically at him. “Sorry Victor.”

“No worries man,” Victor says. “Sorry to hear about your classes though.”

Ed perks up at Victor’s effort to respond, and he grins at Oswald, pleased. Oswald makes a mental note to thank Victor later.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but don’t you have classes all day?”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to come by and quickly ask you something since I won’t see you for a couple of days. I thought on Friday night, since you finish earlier, we could have dinner at my place. Something special. We could dress up smart and I’ll cook us something really nice.” Ed is blushing, and it clicks into place in his brain what Ed is really asking. Oswald feels his own cheeks start to heat up.

“Um, okay. I’ll bring a change of clothes to work. Should I bring anything…else?” He glances over at Victor who’s studiously pretending he can’t hear anything.

Ed looks confused for a moment by Oswald’s conspiratorial tone. “No, it’s fine. I have everything I need.”

Sometimes Ed needs to be told point blank what’s going on since he doesn’t always seem to understand subtlety or hints. But Oswald can’t do that in front of Victor. And he’s so hot under the collar from what Ed probably intends with all this that he’s not sure he can say it anyway.

“Okay then!” Oswald forces out. “Friday it is.”

He really badly wants to lean across the counter and kiss Ed, but he’s all too aware, _now_ especially, that Fish Mooney is watching. He’d told Ed about her warning and Oswald had been so worried about his job that they hadn’t so much as kissed each other on the cheek in the café since.

He adds the last of the cups to the stacks on top of the coffee machine and moves to stand closer to Ed. He slides his hand across the counter tentatively, and Ed smiles, linking their fingers together.

“You look beautiful today,” Ed says. Oswald looks down at their entwined hands as he blushes deeply. Next thing he knows, Ed is suddenly leaning across the counter, tilting his head to get under Oswald’s, and kissing him. He puts a hand on the back of Oswald’s head to deepen the kiss, but before Oswald can get over his surprise and respond, Ed has pulled away and is literally running out of the café, knocking into a chair since his long limbs are out of control.

“I’ll see you Friday!” He shouts over his shoulder. “Bye Victor!”

Oswald knows he has a stupid grin on his face. He glances at Victor, who’s smirking as he watches Ed run down the street. He looks around at the few patrons in the café, all of whom staring after the tornado that was Edward Nygma, then at him. He just shrugs and starts cleaning the counter—still smiling.

 

* * *

 

Oswald is so nervous he feels vaguely nauseous. It’s half an hour before Ed will come and pick him up and he’s trying to do his makeup in the tiny staff bathroom, but his hands are shaking.

“Ivy!” He calls. She comes running and pauses in the doorway.

“I can’t seem to get this to go right,” he says. “Could you…help me?”

Ivy smirks. “Is tonight the _night_?”

He tries to will his cheeks not to heat up but thinks he’s probably failed when Ivy starts squealing and bouncing on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands.

“Will you help me or not?” He asks, steadfastly avoiding her eyes.

“Of _course_ I will!” She chirps. “What do you want me to do?”

“You remember that really subtle smoky effect I taught you a while ago? You think you could manage that on me? Here, I have the palette…”

And so Ivy very steadily does his makeup, as he’s done for her on countless occasions when she’s been going out on dates. Although tonight, Oswald is going on considerably _more_ than a date.

They’ve been dating for three and a half weeks now, and whenever they’re together they can never keep their hands off each other. Always learning and exploring each other, finding the little things that each of them likes, teasing the weak spots. Oswald’s had sex before, a _lot_ of sex--okay well maybe not a lot. _Some_. A few times. But compared to Ed, it’s definitely a lot. The bottom line is, there’s no reason that Oswald should be freaking out.

Except of course he’s freaking out—because it’s _Ed_. And Ed’s a _virgin_. They had a pretty awkward conversation about that. Ed obviously knew that Oswald had been with Jim, and therefore was definitely not a virgin. But he didn’t know whether he’d been with anyone since then. Oswald was honest; told him he had been several times but that it had been casual. Ed told him that he identified as bisexual and had kissed a girl he was infatuated with in high school, but that he’d paid to do it at a kissing booth, so he never really counted it. Oswald knows that Ed’s inexperience bothers him, but of course, to compensate, Ed researches everything. He has probably researched for tonight.

This is Ed’s _first time_. That’s what it keeps coming back to. It’s not like he’s had sex with a woman and this will just be his first time with a man, this is his first time having _any_ kind of sex. And he’s chosen Oswald. Oswald doesn’t doubt his ability to make Ed feel good, he knows a lot of tricks now, and he does have the experience in his favour. What he’s _really_ worried about, is that somehow, Ed will come out of this thinking he’s made the wrong choice.

Oswald knows a lot of his fears are rooted in what happened with Jim. There’s no guarantee Ed’s parents won’t come home. And sex might change everything, the way it changed everything for his and Jim’s relationship. And there’s also tiny part of him still feels like he’s not good enough for Ed. He’s so beautiful, and so smart, and Oswald still has moments where he can’t believe that Ed would want any of this with him.

He’s waiting for something to wreck everything. Because Oswald has never been in a healthy relationship. He supposes what he had with Jim could almost be defined as such, but Oswald had a massive inferiority complex there too, with Jim being the popular guy that _everyone_ wanted.

The magnitude of his feelings for Ed scares him, because he never thought he’d love anyone more than he loved Jim. There is so much more at stake now, and Oswald just wants to be enough for Ed. He wants it more than he wants anything. And he wants to be close to Ed in the most intimate way, he _does_.

All he can do is show Ed how much he loves him, and how much he wants this to work. He can’t _control_ anything, but he _can_ give Ed all of himself. Ultimately, it’s up to Ed whether that’s enough.

“ _Oswald!_ Are you in there?” Ivy says, shaking his shoulder a little.

“Sorry Ivy,” Oswald says, disoriented from the depth of his reverie. He turns to look in the mirror and sees that Ivy has done an utterly flawless job. The subtle dark smudging around his eyes really makes them pop. Just a hint of mascara and the look will be complete.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

Ivy looks very pleased. “The student becomes the master!”

“Let’s not get too carried away,” he says, smirking. “You mind sweeping the floor? Then I’ll follow you around with the mop and we’re done.”

“Aw you’re the best Ozzie, you know I hate mopping!”

“I also know you’re terrible at it.”

“I am not!” she mutters indignantly, retrieving the broom from the cleaning cupboard.

As she gets started, he pulls his mascara out of his makeup bag and finishes his eyes, resolutely not allowing his mind to drop into another spiral of fear and nerves.

They get the work done quickly, and Oswald hurries out the back to change out of his work clothes.

He really doesn’t have many smart clothes, pretty much everything he owns is a couple of sizes too big. He likes baggy clothes he can get lost in, it almost feels like a layer of defence and it comforts him. But tonight, Oswald has actually bought a pair of jeans that fit him properly, to wear with a plain black button up shirt and the black waistcoat with swirl patterns on it that Ed bought him for his birthday the previous week. He’s got a suit jacket too, and his Doc Martens instead of his Vans. He even repainted his nails, even though he likes the angry chipped look. The shade is midnight blue and it’s his favourite from his nail polish collection.

He gives himself a last minute once over in the bathroom mirror. Smart(er) outfit, check. Makeup, check. Soft and fluffy hair with re-dyed purple strip, check. Ivy comes to put the cleaning equipment away in the cupboard and says across the hall, “he’s here!”

Oswald’s heart speeds up and his stomach starts doing somersaults as he grabs his backpack from the coat rack and takes a deep breath. Ivy comes up behind him and grabs her jacket (the one Jim gave her, she lives in it) and bag.

“He looks _fine_.” Ivy says, helpfully.

They come out to the counter area and Oswald turns off all the lights, double checking everything is switched off. He then glances out of the window and sees Ed, leaning on one of the bike racks outside. He does indeed look ‘fine’. He’s wearing a suit of forest green and black, with black cap toe dress boots instead of his usual chucks. His hair, instead of being wild and curly as normal, has been swept out of his face into an elegant 40’s wave. Oswald looks down at his own ensemble and immediately feels poor and frumpy. At least he knows his makeup looks good. And he imagines Ed will appreciate being able to see his ass in these jeans. Oswald waits for him to meet his eyes, but Ed doesn’t look into the café, instead watching students go by nervously.

He lets himself and Ivy out, locking the door behind him. He says bye to her, and she tells him excitedly to have fun, but he’s not paying a huge amount of attention as he walks around to the side of the café where Ed is sitting, in a dreamlike state.

 

* * *

 

Ed gets to the café far too early, his paranoia of being late always making him have a lot of time to spare, so he decides to carry on across campus and loop back again.

His nerves are frayed at this point. He didn’t sleep well last night, he was up until the early hours reading the dos and don’ts of gay sex one more time, so he doesn’t make any stupid mistakes. Despite having read every bit of information he can find, and watching so much porn his laptop got a virus, he _still_ feels nervous.

He knows Oswald loves him, and that does soothe him somewhat. Surely if he’s not very good this first time, Oswald will give him more chances to improve? He’s going to try his damn well best to make their first time special, but he knows first times can go… _awry_. Normally he would have asked Jim for help and advice, but given his history with Oswald, _that_ is off limits. He’s on his own.

This was all his idea, so he needs to man up. He _really_ wants this, he’s been thinking about it since before he even spoke to Oswald. And tonight he finally gets to have it. Images flash through his mind of himself and Oswald horizontal on his bed, Oswald pressing into him, his eyes closed, his mouth open in ecstasy; Oswald’s hands pinning his own to the sheets. _God_ does he want this.

He’s so distracted by this visual he almost gets mown down by a cyclist when he meanders onto the wrong side of the path. They ring their bell and shout expletives at him and he stumbles back and apologises, adjusting his glasses. After that he decides the safest thing to do is to head back to the café.

He perches on one of the bike racks to the side of the café and decides to play his game of people watching, guessing details about them and their lives to try to keep himself calm.

He is really not prepared when he finally sees Oswald walking towards him. He just looks so spectacular, so unique, that Ed can feel his palms start to sweat. When Oswald stops in front of him, Ed can’t look away from his eyes. The makeup makes them look even brighter, and they’re just so beautiful, so mesmerising.

“You look amazing,” Ed says, the same time Oswald says, “you look incredible.” They both smile at each other, amused. Oswald steps between his legs, wraps his arms around Ed’s neck and leans in for a kiss. Ed places his hands on Oswald’s waist and pulls him closer, gently tugging at the lip ring with his teeth.

“Get a room!” Someone shouts as they pass.

Oswald breaks away from him and looks around angrily, immediately locating the source of the heckling.

“Look, I know you’re jealous that I get to make out with the hottest guy on campus but really, you’re going to have to fucking get over it.” And he fixes them with such a glare that they blink rapidly and pick up their pace.

Oswald turns back to Ed and kisses him again, open mouthed and more forceful. Ed is more than a little turned on by that possessive display.

“So,” Ed says when they break apart for air, “the hottest guy on campus huh?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Oswald says, entwining their fingers.

Ed raises his eyebrows, attempting to look innocent. Then he shakes his head. “Nope, too late.”

Oswald laughs and kisses him again.

“I think that jerk’s right though,” Ed says.

“Hmm?”

“We _should_ get a room. Specifically, mine. Soon.” Ed murmurs against Oswald’s lips.

Oswald inhales sharply, his lip ring grazing Ed’s lower lip. “Okay,” he breathes. He steps back enough to allow Ed to stand up, and takes hold of Ed’s hand. “Come on then, handsome. Let’s go.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally arrived at the end! 
> 
> A small warning for Ed's back story - the childhood I created for him is pretty sad.

The sun has finally dipped below the ever-present clouds and is casting its last red-golden rays over Ed and Oswald, who are dining outside on the deck that overlooks the entire garden of Ed’s home. It’s not especially warm, but Ed has turned on the patio heater, and the small tea lights that he has lit at the table make it feel very cosy. 

Oswald has already forgotten the name of the dish Ed made, but it was _amazing_ ; Oswald never thought he’d meet anyone whose cooking held a candle to his mother’s. Having cleared the plates away, they’re relaxing together with glasses of wine. The alcohol is helping to keep his nerves calm as they head towards the part of the evening where the elephant in the room can no longer be ignored.

“Oswald,” Ed begins after a period of comfortable silence which they spend watching the sun disappear below the horizon. “There are a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about.”

Oswald turns to look at him and waits patiently. 

Ed clears his throat nervously and fidgets with his cutlery. “I know you’ve been holding back with me. Sometimes, when we’re together, I can tell you’re pulling yourself back, because you think you might hurt me. Or perhaps you think I don’t want it, or I can’t take it.”

Oswald isn’t sure where he’s going with this, but he’s more than a little worried. Ed _is_ right of course. Oswald has certain urges when things get heated; he _wants_ to be rough, he _wants_ to test Ed’s limits. But he always pulls himself back, because he doesn’t want to scare or hurt Ed. 

“But I don’t want you to do that anymore. I want you to let go.” Oswald watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I _want_ you to hurt me.”

Oswald takes a shaky breath as desire coils deep in his belly at the _submission_ in those words. 

“And with that in mind, I wanted to tell you that…I’m ready. I’ve prepared myself, and if you’re willing, I want to have intercourse with you. Tonight.”

Oswald pinches the bridge of his nose and drops his elbow heavily on the table. “Remember when we talked about using cold, clinical words for sex stuff, Ed?”

“Yes, but I wanted to be clear—”

“Oh, you’re being _very_ clear.” Oswald says, taking a large gulp of wine. 

Ed misses Oswald’s mild annoyance completely and looks relieved. “Oh good,” he says. “So, do you want to?”

“I don’t think the first time is really a good time to ‘let go’ as you put it. The first time is for being gentle, especially if you’re the one—you know—”

“—Being penetrated?”

Oswald closes his eyes for a few moments as he inwardly cringes at Ed’s terminology. “Yes, that. Now that you’ve opened this discussion though, we can revisit it and try new things. I really want what you’ve said too, but not yet. Tonight, I’m going to take things very slowly, and I’m going to look after you. Is that…acceptable?”

Ed beams across the table at him. “Do you want to go upstairs…now?”

“There’s no rush Ed. Why don’t we relax for a bit in the living room and warm up by the fire?”

“Okay,” Ed says, still smiling. They both stand up, but before Oswald can start to load his arms with remaining items from the table to take to the kitchen, Ed reaches out and grabs his arm. He gently pulls Oswald towards him and wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly. “Thank you,” Ed murmurs into Oswald’s neck.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

 

* * *

 

Oswald is sitting in the corner of the sofa with Ed laying across it, his head in Oswald’s lap. There’s no noise except for the crackling of the fire and it’s incredibly relaxing. The light is low; the room is only lit by the fire and the dying light outside. Oswald strokes his fingers through Ed’s hair, trying to relax him too. He’s seemed a little on edge ever since Oswald saw him sitting outside the café. He wants to calm his nerves, and by default his own. Oswald never thought he could enjoy doing nothing so much. Sitting here with Ed like this fills his heart with a quiet peace and contentment that he’s never known before. 

Ed’s eyes are closed, and he looks so peaceful Oswald thinks he might have fallen asleep. But then he furrows his brows and opens his eyes, seeking Oswald’s own. 

“My parents never wanted me.”

Oswald is caught entirely off-guard by that revelation, but he immediately gives Ed his full attention. This is going to be hard to hear, but he’s honoured that Ed trusts him enough to tell him something he usually keeps locked away deep inside. 

“I was an accident. They never wanted children. And my parents, they run in such high society circles, that the family didn’t want to risk the news of an abortion getting out. So, they were forced to keep me. If my mother could have, she would have gotten rid of me.”

Oswald’s heart clenches at the thought of a world without Ed in it. He looks down at Ed and he’s so incredibly grateful that he’s here, and that he found his way into Oswald’s life. 

“I’ve always thought it was stupid. I mean, these days, no one cares, right? But I guess my grandparents were really old fashioned and we all paid the price. I always felt it, even at an early age. They spent as little time with me as possible. My mother still finds it hard to look at me, the child she was forced to have. My father always liked to remind me of how after I was born neither of them would even hold me. Polina was the one that took me home from hospital.” Ed closes his eyes and continues talking. “I understand that being forced to go through that experience when she never wanted to must have been awful, I do. Even though she hates me, I do pity her for that. But the worst part was having to stay with them, to keep up appearances. I couldn’t be put up for adoption, because my grandparents on my mother’s side wanted us to look like a normal, happy family. Polina did the things my parents should have, but she never showed me any affection. She has always had the same contempt for me as my parents, being as close to my mother as she is.”

The idea that Ed’s own mother can’t stand to look at him, that his parents resent his existence, is awful. Oswald wills himself not to overreact; he has to be strong for Ed.

“But there was someone who cared about me when no one else did. My grandfather on my father’s side always came to the house when he could. He used to love sitting in that chair right over there.” Ed points to the rocking chair by the fire. “I remember I used to sit in his lap and he would tell me stories, but most often we’d do puzzles, and he was always amazed at how quickly I could solve them. He called me his little enigma.” Ed smiles.

“And that’s where you got your name from. I love that.” Oswald says, entwining his fingers with Ed’s. It’s such a clever and sweet tribute and so _Ed_. He can just imagine a curly haired, skinny little boy curled up in the arms of a kindly old man. 

“Yes exactly. I was named after him. He was the first Edward Nashton. But for me the last name always held that association with my parents, especially after he passed away. So I changed it. I think he would have liked it.”

“I’m certain he would have. I think he would have been really proud of you, Ed.”

Ed smiles a watery smile. “I wish he were still here. Eleven years is a long time.” 

Oswald squeezes his hand. He would have liked to have met Ed’s grandfather. He’d like to thank him. 

Ed’s breath suddenly hitches, his entire expression one of pain.

“The last thing he said to me was that there was someone out there waiting for me, and not to give up hope.” He looks up at Oswald, his eyes full of tears. “I didn’t.”

Oswald can’t help the tear that slips down his cheek, but he quickly wipes it away. He doesn’t have any idea how to reply to that. He’s so deeply moved that he can’t form words.

They’re quiet for a little while. Oswald keeps hold of one of Ed’s hands and squeezes it every so often, and soothes his fingers through his hair with his other, as the tears roll down Ed’s cheeks. Ed never deserved the resentment of his parents, or to lose the one family member that cared about him, at such a young age. It only compounds the tragedy of his youth. Ed deserved so much more; he deserved the loving upbringing Oswald had. He determines to make it so that Ed never feels unloved again. 

“You know the mustang?” Ed says, breaking Oswald out of his thoughts. “It was his before it was mine. He adored that car. He used to take me out for trips in it. He was heartbroken when he became too ill to drive it. He left it to me in his will.” He pauses, the memory of that time obviously painful to recall. More tears fall and he takes a deep breath. “I feel like I’ve grown up in that car.” Ed wipes away his tears and looks up at Oswald, a small smile breaking through. “My parents have always hated me driving it. They want me to drive something fancy and expensive that makes them look good. Not the ‘rust bucket’ as they call it. Even if I wasn’t attached to the car, I would drive it until it falls apart, just to piss them off.” 

Oswald smiles down at him, amused, and kisses the back of Ed’s hand. Ed sits up and reaches for his wine. After finishing the last of it, he takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes. Oswald wonders how on earth Ed has managed to hold it together since he lost his grandfather, having no one looking out for him. Oswald would have been lost over the years without his mother. At least since he started college, Ed has had Jim. And Oswald finds he’s grateful to Jim for being a good friend to Ed, even after everything that passed between Jim and himself. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Oswald says earnestly. “Thank you for telling me all this.”

“Thank you for listening. I’m sorry I killed the mood. That wasn’t really very sexy, was it?” He says, chuckling. 

Oswald pulls Ed towards him for a kiss. “You know what _is_ sexy? The fact you’ve never given up, the fact you _still_ won’t give up. You keep trying, even in situations that I know are difficult for you. You have so much strength, and I continue to be in awe of you, Ed.”

Ed looks at him with so much warmth and amazement in his eyes that it bowls Oswald over. He swings his legs round and gestures for Ed to lie back with him, his back against Oswald’s front. This enables him to wrap his arms around Ed, his aim being to comfort him and make him feel safe, but he won’t settle. He flips over so he’s looking down at Oswald. 

“Do you really mean that?”

“What?”

“That you’re in awe of me.” Ed’s eyes are ablaze and he seems to be searching for any trace of a lie in Oswald’s own.

Any other day, Oswald would make a joke about Ed being an ego maniac, but this is not the right time or place for that. Ed needs reassurance and validation after making himself completely vulnerable in front of Oswald. It was incredibly brave just saying the words out loud let alone having someone else hear that he’s unwanted by his own parents. Oswald has never admired anyone as much as he admires Ed. 

“Yes, Ed, I mean it.”

Ed gives a little gasp before dropping his head to kiss Oswald. “Say it again,” he murmurs against his lips.

“I’m in awe of you.” Oswald responds without hesitation.

“More.” He starts planting kisses down Oswald’s throat. 

“You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” Oswald says as Ed kisses the sensitive spot just below his ear. His hand slides its way up Oswald’s shirt. “You’re a genius.” A thumb grazes over his nipples. “You’re so hot. You know that? I wanted to touch you from the first time I saw you…” Ed runs a thumb across the taut skin of his hip and a lightning bolt of desire shoots across his stomach. Oswald lets out a breathy sigh as Ed gets increasingly worked up on top of him. Ed’s lips are suddenly on his again, kissing him to within an inch of his life. When Ed lowers himself so their cocks are brushing through their pants, he can’t hold back a moan. His hands automatically go to Ed’s ass to press him down harder. Nothing turns Oswald on more than when Ed’s so intense and impassioned that he _won’t stop fucking moving_. If he carries on like this, sex is definitely going to have to be delayed. Ed grinds down particularly hard and Oswald throws his head back, trying to string a sentence together to let Ed know—

“Ed—ah—if you want intercourse— _fuck_ —we need to go up—”

Ed stops moving and starts laughing against Oswald’s lips. “If I want what, now?”

Dear god, he actually just said that. It’s happening—he’s starting to talk like Ed. He brings his hands up to cover his face as it turns crimson. 

“Christ, just leave me here to die.” He’s never going to live this down. 

Ed pries his hands away from his face and pins them above his head, his expression entirely too gleeful. “You’re not going _anywhere_ until you _penetrate_ me,” he says in an exaggerated husky manner.

“Oh my God,” Oswald says as he bursts out laughing. He finds he can’t stop and Ed watches him, grinning, his eyes alight. Eventually he manages to get control of himself and wipes at his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, placing his hands on either side of Ed’s face. “I love you.”

Ed’s smile is all dimples and warmth as he leans down to kiss Oswald once more; Oswald lets out a sigh as their lips fit together, his bottom lip between Edward’s. He pulls back and simply looks down at Oswald. The mood changes as they look at each other, from breathless laughter to hungry desire.

“Do you remember when we were in the library and you said I belonged to you?” Ed says, voice low. He runs a thumb over Oswald’s cheek reverently, his eyes tracking the movement. “You were right.” He traces the thumb over Oswald’s lips. “I’m yours.” His eyes meet Oswald’s. “Have me.”

Ed is characteristically dorky and awkward. He uses distinctly unsexy language most of the time to talk about seduction and sex. But then he’ll come out with something like that, and it’ll blow Oswald’s mind with how much he _wants_. 

It takes him a few moments to remember how to use words, and even then he can’t select ones that do Ed justice. So, he simply nods, and Ed stands up, offering his hand. They’re really going to do this. Oswald has never wanted anything more in his life. 

 

* * *

 

Oswald closes the door behind them and Ed locks it and slides a bolt across. That’s new. He looks at Ed.

“No one’s going to ruin this for us,” Ed says by way of explanation.

The amount of thought that Ed has put into tonight is incredible and Oswald feels overwhelmed with gratitude at the idea that Ed had considered his anxiety about being interrupted. 

“Thank you,” Oswald says, pulling Ed to him by his belt loops and kissing him tenderly. He begins to undo Ed’s waistcoat and Ed starts trying to undress Oswald as well, but he stills Ed’s hands. 

“Please, just let me…” Oswald murmurs as he lowers Ed’s hands to his sides. He returns to unbuttoning the waistcoat, slipping it from his shoulders and hanging it over the nearby desk chair. He next undoes the knot of Ed’s tie, but instead of sliding it out from under the collar, he holds both ends of it in one hand and pulls Ed down to kiss him. 

“Sorry,” Oswald says, smiling guiltily. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Please, do it again.” Ed’s eyes are dilated, and Oswald pulls him down harder; the kiss more teeth than tongues this time. Ed whines in desperation, and Oswald finally pulls the tie off him and starts to unbutton his shirt. Ed’s fingers pull at his hair as the kiss intensifies; Oswald finishes unbuttoning the shirt, hurriedly tugging it from him. That still leaves a vest—how can he wear so many layers? He slowly pushes the hem upwards, fingers brushing over Ed’s bare stomach and chest, and Ed has to be told to put his arms up so Oswald can get the vest off him. 

He’s finally divested of all his top layers, Oswald stands back and admires Ed’s torso. Ed’s chest is heaving and there’s a very noticeable bulge in his trousers—the sight of it makes Oswald’s mouth water. 

“Lay down on the bed.” Oswald tries to sound commanding but his voice just comes out low and croaky.

Ed’s eyes widen and he all but runs to the bed, Oswald smirks at his eagerness. He follows Ed, gets onto the bed and crawls on top of him, leaning down to blow air over Ed’s nipples, before gently nipping at each one with his teeth. Ed, now extremely hypersensitive, threads his fingers into Oswald’s hair, sighing as he throws his head back. 

Having Ed’s neck bared before him like that proves to be too much, and he pulls himself further up the bed so he can plant wet kisses underneath his jaw, flicking his tongue over Ed’s hot skin with each one. Ed’s breaths are long and deep and he almost arches up and down in time with it, trying to press himself against Oswald, desperate for friction. Oswald holds his hips down with one hand and settles himself on his front between Ed’s legs, continuing his way down Ed’s torso. He runs his fingertips lightly over Ed’s stomach and it jumps—he knows it’s a fine line between teasing and tickling—Ed’s breathless inhale is almost a laugh. He sets about kissing the skin below Ed’s belly button, following the happy trail down to his belt. Oswald delights in how the skin shivers beneath his lips and hands, how Ed’s started lightly pulling at his hair. He kisses the skin of his hip while undoing the belt. He then slides his fingers into his pants, not low enough to touch his cock but close enough that Ed’s grip on his hair tightens, his breaths coming faster and shorter. 

Oswald takes his hand away and Ed whimpers, but Oswald is only going to take off his pants. He pulls them down and off slowly, crawling back up to admire the way Ed’s cock is straining against his underwear, a large dark spot of pre-come very evident. Oswald sits back on his heels, looking at the writhing mess splayed out before him. Ed sighs with frustration. 

“Oswald, _please_. Please don’t make me wait—” 

“Undress me.” Oswald interrupts, staring at him expectantly. Ed immediately sits up and crawls into Oswald’s lap, starting to undo the buttons of his waistcoat with shaking hands. Oswald is entranced by the strong lines of his shoulders and the curve of his neck; can’t resist planting nips and kisses along his shoulder while lightly stroking the nape of his neck. Ed sighs, stuttering in his movements, finishing the waistcoat and starting on the shirt. 

Oswald, feeling particularly evil, lowers his hands slowly, fingertips tracing over his back, until he hooks his thumbs in Ed’s underwear, Ed automatically lifting his hips to help. Oswald allows himself a look at Ed’s freed cock, the head is very wet and he’s desperate to have it in his mouth. 

Ed has only managed to half-undo his shirt, but Oswald can’t wait. He lifts Ed from his lap and throws him back on the bed, pulling his pants and underwear the rest of the way off and quickly ridding him of his socks. 

“Turn over. On your knees.” Oswald says. Ed’s eyes seem to dilate further as he complies. He leans over Ed’s back so he can speak directly into his ear as he teases a finger over his entrance. “You want me to rim you?” 

Ed moans and pushes back against his finger in response. 

“Tell me you want it, Ed.”

“I need it. Please Oswald. _Please_.”

“Are you going to be good for me?” Oswald mutters lowly, increasing the pressure against his hole slightly.

“ _Yes_.” It comes out mostly a moan. “I promise I will be.” His cheeks are flushed and his chest is heaving. “ _Please_ ,” he says again. 

Oswald is so turned on by Ed’s desperation that he knows it wouldn’t take long if he were to take his cock out and stroke himself. He wills himself to calm down—this is about Ed, about making him feel good, about making his (and their) first time together something wonderful. 

“Very well,” Oswald says, leaning back slowly, careful not to put too much pressure on his bad knee. Though in situations like this, the pain does help to bring him back from the brink somewhat. One of the very few uses of his injury. “Hold yourself open for me.”

He hears Ed gasp again as he lowers his head into the pillows and does as Oswald requests, his ass in the air, hands baring his puckered hole.

At the first swipe of his tongue, Ed jolts and moans so obscenely that Oswald has to sit back for a moment, realising his own hands are shaking with how much he simply wants to _take_ and _claim_ Ed. He wants to fuck Ed into the mattress so he makes that same sound again, loud enough that it almost destroys his voice. He wants to make Ed _scream_ for him. God, Oswald feels like he’s moments away from coming in his pants. He deliberately puts pressure on his knee to force himself back down. 

After giving himself a few moments, he leans back in and laps his tongue over the ring, Ed moans loudly again. After a while of teasing Ed with his tongue, he leans back, and looks around for lube. Edward moves his hands from his ass so he can lean on them instead. 

“In the drawer of the nightstand,” Ed says breathlessly, guessing what Oswald’s silence means. 

Oswald retrieves it and coats his fingers with a generous amount before tossing it to one side. He slips his index finger inside Ed, and it is evident he had prepared himself because it slides in easily. Ed pushes back against him, eager for more, and Oswald obliges with a second finger, searching for that spot that will make Ed lose his mind. 

He knows he’s found it when Ed punches the headboard and shouts, the words almost indiscernible. But Oswald does hear “please Oswald” and “fuck me” and _god_ does he want to. He adds a third finger and Ed all but _wails_ , shoving himself back against Oswald’s fingers hard. 

Oswald can’t wait anymore. 

“Ed, turn over.” 

He’s momentarily stunned when Ed turns over and sees he’s flushed pink pretty much everywhere. His hair has come loose from its elegant slicked back style and is reverting back to its usual wild and curly state. His glasses are de-fogging slowly. 

“You’re gorgeous, Ed.” Oswald can’t help saying, running his hands up Ed’s thighs. Then he remembers what he’d wanted to say to Ed’s face. “I need to know that you definitely want this.”

“Yes, Oswald. _Please_. Take me.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Oswald places a kiss on his hip before getting up and going to the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth, swirls some mouthwash and gets rid of his remaining clothes. He eyes himself in the mirror and he looks almost as dishevelled as Ed. He sits on the toilet seat for a few moments, just to compose himself. A few slow breaths in and out, focusing on the bathroom tiles. Feeling a little calmer, he heads back into the bedroom. Ed turns to face him and smiles, the sight melting Oswald’s heart. He leans down to kiss Ed, unable to resist, before getting a condom from the nightstand drawer and placing it on the bed next to the lube. 

He climbs up over Ed again, finally enjoying the feeling of skin on skin. Oswald puts a hand on the side of Ed’s face and kisses him with all the love he feels. Ed’s hands find their way into his hair as he runs his tongue along Oswald’s bottom lip, before plunging into his mouth. Oswald moans, and Ed’s fingers tighten in his hair. 

After a while he breaks away, leaning on his forearms and looking Ed in the eyes. “I want you to tell me straight away if it hurts, even a little bit. You have to tell me. I’m going to be as gentle as I can, but you have to tell me how you’re feeling. Okay?”

Ed nods seriously and says “yes” to confirm. Oswald is satisfied with his sincerity, and feels that Ed does understand how important it is that he communicates any discomfort. Oswald will be watching him closely for any signs of it regardless. 

He reaches across to the other side of the bed to grab a couple of pillows to place under Ed, who lifts his hips obediently. Oswald then sits back on his haunches, reaching for the condom, tearing off the wrapper and rolling it down himself. He uses a lot of lube to slick himself up, before positioning himself over Ed. He notices Ed’s breathing speeding up and he takes one of Ed’s hands and kisses the back of it. 

“Breathe,” Oswald murmurs soothingly, brushing his thumb across his cheek, giving Ed more time.

When Ed nods, he guides his cock to Ed’s entrance and presses in very slowly. Ed’s hands come up to hold on to Oswald’s back. 

Ed is impossibly tight and hot, and he keeps pushing inside, watching Ed’s face intently, even as he starts sweating with the pressure of going so slow. 

“Wait,” Ed says, his fingernails digging into Oswald’s back. Oswald immediately halts all movement. He’s almost halfway in. 

“I just need a minute,” Ed says, breathing deeply. “You feel bigger than I thought you would.”

“If you want to stop—” 

“ _No_ ,” Ed almost sounds angry, “I just need a moment. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just…it’s a lot.”

“I understand,” Oswald says, dropping his head to Ed’s shoulder, shaking with the effort of holding still. 

Ed lifts a hand to Oswald’s cheek, seemingly confused by the shaking. “Are you alright?” He asks.

Oswald almost wants to laugh. That Ed would ask _him_ at this particular moment in time if _he’s_ okay…well it’s the most _Ed_ thing ever. 

“I’m fine, Ed,” Oswald says, knowing that Ed needs reassurance just as much as he does. 

“Oh good,” Ed says, relieved. 

Oswald loves him so much. He kisses the shoulder beneath his lips. 

“Okay, I’m ready for more.”

Oswald leans down and gives him a long, slow kiss, before beginning that slow torturous press inside Ed again. 

Ed carries on with his measured breathing, keeping his eyes on Oswald to show that he’s alright. When Ed flinches slightly, Oswald stops. 

“You feel huge,” Ed grits out, clearly struggling to adjust. Oswald looks down at him, concerned.

“If it’s too much, we can stop. We don’t have to do this.”

“Just kiss me,” Ed says, and Oswald does, careful not to move. He can feel Ed relax a little beneath him. 

“I want you,” Ed whispers against his lips. “You can move now.”

Move? Oh shit, Ed thinks Oswald is fully inside him.

“Um Ed, it’s not—I’m not…”

Ed’s eyes go wide. “There’s _more_?”

Oswald bites his lip sheepishly. “Um…I’m sorry?”

Ed flops his head back against the pillow. “Oh my god, it’s like climbing the Eiffel Tower.”

Oswald can’t help it, he bursts into giggles against Ed’s shoulder. “Did you seriously just compare my dick to the Eiffel Tower?”

He hears Ed chuckle breathlessly. “You are particularly well endowed.”

Oswald blushes, but then he has an idea and leans down to say into Ed’s ear, “it’s all for you.”

He hears Ed inhale sharply as Oswald plants kisses underneath his ear, and takes Ed’s wilted cock in his hand. He kisses along Ed’s jaw until he reaches his mouth and kisses him _thoroughly_. He’s pleased to feel Ed get fully hard again. 

“Give me more,” Ed demands, voice thick. 

Oswald doesn’t see any discomfort, and Ed doesn’t stop him, as he presses the rest of the way in. 

“Is that all of it?” Ed asks, when Oswald stops moving. 

“That’s all of it.” Oswald grins down at him. “You’re doing so well.”

“You’re _inside_ me,” Ed says in wonderment, leaning up and seeking a kiss. 

“You feel so good Ed, so hot.” The kiss turns dirty as Oswald waits for the go-ahead to start moving. This has been a slow form of torture and he doesn’t know how long he’ll last once he can move. He feels Ed’s hands shaking in his hair and he knows he’s almost ready.

“Could you try moving?” Ed manages between kisses. Oswald can tell he’s almost back to being as wound up as he was before they began penetration. 

Oswald smirks to himself at his mental usage of the word. He finds he doesn’t mind it so much anymore. 

He pulls out a fraction and pushes back in. His arms are back to shaking, and he has to force himself to take calming breaths. “Okay?” Oswald asks.

“Again. Harder.”

Desire pools hot in Oswald’s belly at the words, as he repeats the action, but with more of a snap to his hips. Edward moans suddenly, sounding surprised. 

“ _Oh_ , oh please keep doing that.” Ed braces himself against the headboard and wraps his legs around Oswald. This is it. They’re _having sex_. Oswald finds himself smiling as he gives Ed his small thrusts, watching Ed’s face contort in pleasure. Oswald could watch this all night, Ed with his head thrown back, Oswald the cause of his elation. He _always_ wants to make Ed feel like this. 

“More,” Ed moans. “Deeper.”

Oswald stutters in his movements at the demands, so hot coming from Ed’s mouth. Oswald pulls almost all the way out and snaps his hips to press back in, and Ed arches his back, his hands moving up the headboard as he moans loudly. Oswald finally begins to fuck him, searching for his prostate, eager to _really_ drive Ed wild. Ed begins to push back, more confident in what he can take now. Oswald changes the angle several times, trying to find—and suddenly Ed’s legs squeeze around him as he punches the headboard and fists his other hand in the sheets, a long loud moan issuing from his lips. Oswald almost comes just from that erotic display but manages to hold off, keeping the angle and hitting his prostate repeatedly. 

From then on, Ed never shuts up. He moans and shouts and says things that don’t make any sense—he’s lost all coherence. Oswald fumbles between them for Ed’s cock, wanting to make Ed come before he does—he feels like he’s been on the edge for _hours_. He’s desperate to come. 

“Look at me, Ed,” Oswald says. Ed opens his eyes and meets Oswald’s; he can tell it’s a struggle to maintain eye contact through everything Ed is experiencing. He’s likely overwhelmed, and is going to need a lot of reassurance to ground him.

“I love you,” is the one thing Oswald can find to say. A tear slips from Ed’s eye. Oswald can’t tell if it’s from exertion or emotion. He leans down to kiss it away. 

“I love you too,” Ed manages breathlessly between pants. His hair is sticking to his head and their bodies are sliding together over the perspiration.

“I’m going to make you come,” Oswald says against Ed’s lips. “And I want to hear you scream.” He thrusts harder and increases the speed of his hand on Ed’s cock. 

“ _Oswald!_ ” Ed cries out as he nears the edge.

He flings an arm out, narrowly avoiding hitting Oswald in the face as his desperately bunches the sheets in his fist. 

The urge is there, has been for a while now, and Oswald doesn’t resist. He takes his hand away from Ed’s cock and snakes it underneath Ed’s head, yanking his hair back, fully exposing his neck. With his other, he pins the hand Ed’s not using to brace himself against the sheets.

“ _Yes_ ,” Ed moans as Oswald sucks a hickey into the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. He moves up to the spot beneath Ed’s jaw—he _loves_ it when Oswald gives him hickeys there. He licks over it and sinks his teeth in, as he continues to pound Ed’s prostate. He’s just started to suck the mark into his skin when Ed wrenches his pinned hand free, grabbing Oswald’s back, nails digging in deep, as he finds his release. He all but screams as his come pulses between them, the open-mouthed ecstasy on his face an exquisite thing to behold. 

Ed’s nails continue to dig into the skin of Oswald’s back until they draw blood—the pain takes Oswald by surprise, and its contrast with his pre-orgasmic haze sends him hurtling over the edge too, losing control of his hips as they stutter arrhythmically against Ed. He moans Ed’s name as he comes deep inside him. 

As exhausted as it’s possible to be, Oswald flops down onto Ed, uncaring of the mess. They both lay there panting for a while, the room almost fully dark. Once his breaths have slowed, Oswald pushes himself up, grimacing at the stickiness between them, and moves to pull out of Ed, but his legs tighten around him, and Ed murmurs quietly, “not yet.”

Looking down at him, Ed is a mess—completely and utterly debauched. Hair sticking to his forehead, his lips red and angry from biting them, a sheen of sweat across his skin. Not to mention the bruises blooming from the hickeys. 

“Okay,” Oswald reassures, leaning down for a gentle kiss. 

Ed brings lifts his hands from Oswald’s back, and is about to touch his face, when he notices his fingers. The tips of them are red with Oswald’s blood. As Ed looks at them, something in his eyes changes. But when he looks back up at Oswald, it’s gone. 

“Did I hurt you?” Ed rasps, voice almost wrecked from so much shouting. Oswald can’t bear the look of concern and self-disappointment on his face.

“No you didn’t. I liked it,” Oswald answers honestly. 

Ed’s eyes go wide. He moves his hands a fraction closer to Oswald’s face, uncertain.

“It’s okay,” Oswald says encouragingly. 

Ed hesitantly lays his hands on either side of his face, his bloody fingertips on Oswald’s cheekbones. Ed gasps as the blood marks Oswald’s pale skin. That strange look comes back to his eyes, the one that doesn’t look quite like him. He moves his hands up into Oswald’s hair before dragging him down into a forceful kiss. Oswald is surprised he even has the energy for it, he himself could fall asleep within seconds if he allowed it. He leans his head against Ed’s, desperate to lie his sore body down on the sheets. 

“Is it okay if I...?” He motions to the space between them where they’re still connected. Ed nods, and cringes as Oswald slowly pulls out. 

Oswald gives him a quick peck on the lips and says, “I’ll be right back” before tying off and disposing of the condom and going to the bathroom. He cleans himself off, and then makes the mistake of looking in the mirror. His makeup is completely smudged across his eyes and part of his cheeks, where it merges with the blood. _Ed_ did this to him. Desire runs hot in his veins at the thought, even though doing anything about it is absolutely out of the question; he feels as though he could sleep for a week. 

He’d never known that he could be turned on by pain and blood. Ed is teaching him a lot about himself. It seems that Ed likes it too…that look in his eyes when he saw the blood…Oswald won’t be forgetting it in a hurry. There’s so much they have to explore together.

He washes the makeup and blood off his face and gets some cloths to clean Ed (and himself) up, as well as a first aid kit, and heads back into the bedroom. 

Ed is lying as Oswald left him, staring up at the ceiling, a bewildered look on his face. 

“You okay, Ed?” 

He perches on the edge of the bed and Ed looks at him, eyes full of love. Oswald feels reassured by it.

“We just had sex,” Ed states. “ _I_ just had sex. With _you_.”

Oswald smiles, amused. “Yes, you did.” He cleans off Ed’s stomach, and then picks up a new cloth to clean the blood from his fingers. He throws both the cloths away and asks Ed to spread his legs. Ed looks confused, but complies. The amount of trust Ed has placed in him is truly immense. 

Oswald is relieved to see there’s no bleeding or damage. He’ll just be sore for a while. He tells Ed as much, before asking him if he could clean his back and cover the cuts with band aids. 

Ed hastily sits up as Oswald shifts around to face away from him. He can tell from Ed’s silence and lack of movement that he’s contemplating what he’s done.

“Are you…are you sure this was okay?” Ed says as he gets to work. Oswald grimaces as the open cuts sting. 

Oswald opens his mouth to reply, but Ed continues. “I didn’t mean to do it. I just lost control, and I was acting on instinct I guess…” 

“It took me by surprise,” Oswald admits. “But it really turned me on. And I liked seeing your marks on me in the mirror in the bathroom.”

Ed applies the last band aid and wraps his arms around Oswald, planting light kisses along his shoulder. “I liked making them,” he whispers against Oswald’s skin. “They make it look like you belong to me too.”

“I _do_ belong to you.” Oswald turns around and lays down carefully, pulling Ed with him. They curl up around each other, and Oswald pulls the covers up over them. “You must know that by now.” He gives Ed a slow, tender kiss, and Ed clings tightly, almost desperately, to him. 

“I do know,” Ed says, though his tone doesn’t sound that confident. “I’m just scared. I’ve never had anything—anyone—in my life like this before. I’ve never _felt_ this way before. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t think I could—”

Oswald presses his index finger to Ed’s lips. “I come in different shapes and sizes. Part of me curves, others are straight…” Ed jolts in his arms with excitement. He can tell Ed knows the answer already but is waiting for him to finish it out of courtesy. And probably savouring the rare spectacle that is Oswald asking him a riddle. “You can put me anywhere you like but there’s only one right place for me. What am I?”

“A puzzle piece.” Ed grins widely, despite being obviously sleepy. “You read that riddle book I gave you.”

Oswald tiredly runs his fingers through Ed’s hair. “I did.”

Ed simply smiles and nuzzles against Oswald’s cheek. Oswald can tell from Ed’s face when he leans back that he knows what Oswald meant by the riddle. 

“I love you, Ed.” Oswald’s eyes are watering, desperate to close and go to sleep. He gives in, snuggling even closer to Ed. 

“I love you, too. I always will,” Ed says sleepily.

Oswald smiles.

They fall asleep like that, warm, content and assured of the love each carries for the other. 

 

* * *

 

Oswald wakes up first, as usual. His eyes seem glued shut, and once he manages to open them, the light streaming through the windows seems like a personal affront to him. He can hear rain pouring hard against the building, and it feels cosy, tucked up here in bed with the boy he loves, listening to the sound of it pattering. He kisses the nape of Ed’s neck and he thinks he hears him sigh in his sleep.

In the night, they’ve shifted into their usual sleeping position of Oswald curled around little spoon Ed. Oswald thinks back to the previous night, and how incredible it had been to seal his bond with Ed. The way Ed had lost control was _breath-taking_ , and Oswald feels the spark of arousal low in his belly, nudging his morning wood against Ed’s ass. 

He reaches around for Ed’s cock, and finds him hard also. He can’t resist stroking him, wanting to wake him up in the best way after such a momentous night. 

Ed starts to whine in his sleep and Oswald can feel him gradually waking up. He moans Oswald’s name as his brain catches up to full awareness. Ed’s cock jerks in his hand when Oswald laves his tongue over the hickey’s he’d made the night before, the reminder making Ed even harder, his moans louder. It doesn’t take Ed long after that, Ed covering Oswald’s hand around his cock with his own as he comes over the sheets. 

“Good morning,” Ed says with a breathless giggle. 

“Morning handsome,” Oswald says, kissing his shoulder. 

“Someone woke up in a good mood.” Ed comments as he turns over, grinning lazily. 

“Hmm, I wonder why.” Oswald smirks when their eyes meet. 

“I bet I can make it better,” Ed says lowly, pushing Oswald onto his back and beginning a trail of kisses down his body. 

Ed doesn’t tease him and gets straight to the main event, slowly sucking Oswald’s cock just the way he likes. He’s become a pro over the few short weeks they’ve been together, cataloguing everything that turns Oswald on. Not that he’d ever been bad of course, Ed is so sexy that it takes very little to get Oswald going. It doesn’t take long for Ed to bring him to completion, as aroused as he was by Ed’s noises and writhing. Ed swallows without losing a drop, another skill he’s honed through insisting on excessive practice. It’s torture, but as torture goes, Oswald finds he can bear it.

“You’re too good at that,” Oswald says as Ed lays beside him. He can see him preening in the corner of his eye. The guy is helpless before compliments. 

They lie in silence for a while, Oswald’s fingertips dancing lightly across Ed’s chest. 

Eventually Ed turns to look at him, his expression sincere. “Thank you for last night. And for listening to me, and for looking after me. And the sex itself, well…it was incredible. I very much enjoyed being penetrated.”

Oswald laughs, and Ed grins and kisses his hand.

“I enjoyed penetrating you.” 

Ed leans into his side and says directly into Oswald’s ear, “we are doing that again soon.”

Oswald snorts. “Tell me that again after you’ve sat down.”

Ed frowns. “It _does_ feel a bit sore…” He concedes.

Oswald looks at him sympathetically. “You wanna take a shower? I feel like I’ve pulled every muscle in my body. Hot water sounds like heaven right now.”

Ed laughs.

“What?” 

“It’s just we sound like a couple of old men. Me with my sore ass and you with your aches and pains.”

Oswald chuckles. “Better get used to it. This is our future.” He says flippantly, only half-joking as he sits up and offers Ed his hand. 

“I’m very okay with that,” Ed says, taking Oswald’s hand and smiling widely as they head into the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

The following week, Oswald and Ed take Gertrud out to dinner for her birthday. Ed is hesitant to go, saying it should probably be a mother and son type of evening, but Oswald insists that Gertrud wants him there.

They have a lovely evening, Gertrud beside herself at being treated so well by “her two boys”. Edward doesn’t miss the way she refers to him as that, almost like he is her son too, and it makes him feel a familial warmth inside that he’s never felt before. It turns out to be one of the most pleasant evenings he’s ever had, and he doesn’t feel like he’s intruding at all. 

They get back to the apartment, and it’s time for Gertrud’s surprise birthday cake. Ed and Oswald had enjoyed a fun afternoon at Ed’s house, baking the cake, almost ruining it when they got distracted. Ed offers to go and get the cake from his car, but Oswald isn’t having any of it. So, Ed hands over his car keys and goes to take a seat beside Gertrud in the living room. 

She leans back and sighs happily. She has had quite a bit to drink and has been even happier and louder than usual. But as he glances at her and smiles politely, she looks serious for the first time that evening. Ed wonders if he’s about to get the ‘don’t hurt my son’ talk. He mentally prepares himself to answer seriously about his intentions. 

“I’m a selfish woman.” Is how she starts. Ed is shocked but recovers quickly, and is about to open his mouth to argue when she holds up a hand.

“No, I am. It’s always just been my Oswald and me. And truthfully, I thought it always would be. I never wanted him to find a boyfriend that would take him away from me.”

Oh god, this is so much worse than the ‘don’t hurt my boy’ talk. She wants to get rid of him for coming between her and Oswald. He tries not to let his panic show on his face. 

“But I’ve been getting better,” she says, fiddling with one of her many colourful bracelets. “When I found the Hungarian community in Gotham, I made some friends. We have meetings and events, and it’s helped me be the mother I should be, helped me have my _own_ life too. I have always wanted Oswald to be happy of course. It’s just that it was just the two of us for so long, I could never bear the thought of sharing him. I don’t feel that way anymore.”

Ed feels like a rabbit caught in headlights, unsure how he should act now. The conversation keeps changing its meaning and he isn’t sure where she’s going with it.

“You’re special, I can see that. He is your one true love, and you are his.”

Ed can feel himself blushing. He swallows.

“One of my friends helped me to see that now he has you, I wouldn’t be losing a boy. I’d be gaining one.” She smiles warmly at him. “I don’t know what your family is like, only that it is unhappy. Oswald hasn’t told me anything, don’t worry. But I can see that you are lonely. And I wanted to tell you that you are welcome in our family. I would love for you to be my son too.” She takes hold of one of his hands and squeezes it. 

It’s too much, Ed is overwhelmed. He’s gone from thinking he was going to be told he can’t see Oswald anymore, to gaining a mother. He has a _family_. He tries to rein in his emotions, but is helpless to stop the small sob that escapes him. Great, now he’s crying on Oswald’s mother’s birthday. Gertrud hands him a frilly handkerchief and he takes it gratefully, dabbing at his eyes. 

He hears Oswald let himself back into the apartment, and takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply to try and get a hold of himself. 

He realises he’s left Gertrud’s words open ended. “Thank you,” he manages. He squeezes her hand back. 

“Ed, are you okay?” Oswald asks, clearly having seen him from the hallway. Ed hears him drop the cake paraphernalia off in the kitchen before coming into the living room, a concerned look on his face. 

“Never better,” Ed says truthfully.

“I just welcomed Ed to the family,” Gertrud says proudly. 

“Oh Ed,” Oswald says, knowing what it means to him. He kneels before Ed and wraps his arms around him. Ed feels more tears slip down his cheeks at all the warmth and affection. Oswald leans back and places his hands on Ed’s knees. 

“There’ll be no getting rid of Kapelputs now.” 

Gertrud laughs and Ed manages a small chuckle, though he doesn’t find it particularly funny because it’s exactly what he wants. 

“Okay Ed, you wanna come and help me in the kitchen?”

Ed nods and follows him, not missing the grateful smile Oswald gives his mother. 

Ed goes straight for the packet of candles, ready to dot them artfully on the cake, but Oswald pulls him away, wrapping his arms around him. Ed welcomes the embrace, wrapping his arms around Oswald’s middle and resting his head on his shoulder. 

Everything is still so overwhelming, and a lot to process. For someone who’s spent most of his life alone and hated by his own family, with only his grandfather for a short time, to suddenly have not only Oswald, but someone who wants to be his mother as well, it’s nothing short of unbelievable. 

And he knows Oswald _understands_. As they stand there in the middle of the kitchen holding each other, he is so grateful that Oswald always just _knows_. He nudges his chin so it fits more snugly on Oswald’s shoulder, and moves a hand to hold him tighter. In response, Oswald places a small delicate kiss to Ed’s shoulder. 

“Okay we’d better get on with this cake thing before my mom passes out on the couch,” Oswald says, picking up the gas cooker lighter and handing it to Ed. “I’ll get some plates, you sort out the candles.”

“Okie dokie,” Ed says, setting about removing the packaging from the candles. 

They eventually bring in the cake, and they sing happy birthday, Gertrud clapping delightedly before blowing out the candles. Afterward, Oswald hands out plates and Edward cuts them each a generous slice. They chatter some more, and share a bottle of wine, until Gertrud is practically falling asleep on the couch. 

“Okay mom, time for you to go to bed.” Oswald says, taking her wine glass out of her hand.

“Oh but it’s such a lovely evening, I don’t want it to end!” She seems so genuinely put out that Ed says, “but we can have more like it, can’t we Oswald?”

“Of course we can,” Oswald says smiling at him. Gertrud yawns and Oswald helps her up, steadying her when she totters slightly on her feet. Oswald starts leading her to her room, but she says, “wait.” She leans down to where Ed is sitting in the single arm chair and grabs his face in both her hands and gives him an air kiss to the cheek. “Goodnight Ed. Schlaf gut.”

“Du auch,” Ed says. He likes that they do their greetings, goodbyes and goodnights in German. He feels like it’s their little thing. Oswald smiles at him as he helps his mother to her bedroom. 

Oswald comes back shortly and lays across the couch, his back against the arm. He gestures for Ed to come and lay against him. Ed does, and Oswald wraps an arm around him, holding one of his hands with the other, entwining their fingers. 

“You okay?” Oswald asks in his ear. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ed says leaning his head up and to the side for a kiss. Ed strokes Oswald’s cheek as they share chaste kisses.

“You sure? I know my mom can be a lot, especially when she’s drinking…”

“I hope she didn’t just say it all because she was drunk,” Ed half-jokes.

“No, she didn’t. We talked about it beforehand. She asked me if what she wanted to say was okay.”

“And that’s why you volunteered to go to the car, and gave us plenty of time…”

Oswald looks sheepish. “Guilty.”

Ed smiles and looks up at the ceiling. They’re quiet for a while as Ed contemplates the changes to his life. 

“Where do you think we’ll be in five years?” Ed says, breaking the silence. 

“I imagine you’ll be working in forensics for some national organisation…” Oswald says thoughtfully. “I’ll probably still be at the café.”

“National organisation, like in Washington D.C.?”

“Of course. You’re very smart. You’ll be highly sought after.”

Ed turns over so he can look at Oswald. “I wouldn’t go there without you.”

“You can’t let me hold you back, Ed. I won’t ever leave Gotham.”

“I wouldn’t be happy without you. I’ll stay here in Gotham with you.”

“You think we’ll still be together in five years then?” Oswald asks, and Ed can tell he’s aiming for a light-hearted tone, but he falls somewhat short. Oswald’s uncertainty makes something in his own brain shift. 

“Yes, I do,” Ed replies, trying to make himself sound as confident as possible. He hopes he pulls it off. He leans up for a tender kiss. “There is no Edward Nygma without Oswald Cobblepot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read/left kudos/commented on this story, or did one, two or all of the above, I’m grateful for all of it. This story started out as what was intended to be a cute one shot indulgence of my love of the college aesthetic, but somehow ended up as a 70k+ mass of fluff and angst. I regret nothing. I love these nerds. 
> 
> I'm sad to finish this story, but this isn't it for the verse. I have some companion one shots planned, as well as a multi-chapter sequel which I intend to take us up to the start of the Gotham canon. Though that work will be much darker, because these are destructive characters, and because, well, Gotham. So the verse is to be continued. 
> 
> <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://afirefromheaven.tumblr.com/)


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